


The Masayaf Eagle

by Kira_Katashi



Series: Peter's Plan [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Birds, Canon-Typical Violence, Desmond needs a hug, Fluff can be found, Friends through all timelines, Gen, How to stop Juno, Time Travel, friends are important, help for Desmond, plays during the Desmond saga, with little bits of Origins and Odyssey later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2019-10-07 20:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 101,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kira_Katashi/pseuds/Kira_Katashi
Summary: Penelope got to know him as Dirk. A strange being tells her, that his name is Desmond.And Desmond has the hardest choice to make and she has a chance to help.She gets thrown back in time, further than she ever thought, to collect energy to give Desmond a third solution.Was it worth it?





	1. I shall name you our eagle.

**Author's Note:**

> Heyho everyone, Kira here.  
> It’s my first FF for the AC-fandom but after finishing Black Flag yesterday and this idea nearly finished, the recordings of Desmond kicked me right in the feels and this story out into the internet.  
> I hope it’s not too obvious (I got no complains in previous FFs), but I am actually a German native speaker so if I make a mistake please don’t be afraid to point it out, I correct and reread my text as much as possible but here and there a mistake slips my radar. And I can only get better if someone tells me what I did wrong.  
> Anyway, I am rambling.  
> Enjoy and hopefully be surprised with the story turns when the next chapters come up.

 

> _Notes on **the Masyaf Eagle** by an unknown author (date around 2000):_
> 
> _“The Masyaf eagle – named after the pace it was mentioned for the first time – is a very rare kind of eagle that pops up only a few times in history. [..1..] Its first set of feathers is grey, which are then completely replaced all-white feathers that turn golden with high age and its beak has a light grey color which darkens over the years. [..2..]_  
>  _Records, that mention this particular kind, state that it possesses an IQ just short of a human. [..3..] I assume that in a few texts the Masyaf Eagle is mistaken for white-bellied sea eagle. [..4..] It is unknown if and how many of the species still exist. Nonetheless, I would be honored to meet one._
> 
>  

* * *

 

Penelope had a big grin on her face; the crown was once again in the possession of her team the _Nest_. They had lost it last month and sadly interrupted a 4-month winning streak.  
On the first Sunday every month (plus/minus a few days if it was a holiday) the five parkour-teams home in the big hall participated in a small game against each other. The rules as followed:

\- Every team got a colored frisbee.  
\- Goal is to get the frisbees of the enemy teams.  
\- Was a team-member caught with their frisbee in hand by an enemy he had to pass the frisbee to one of his team and was disqualified for the game. (10 points for the enemy) If he was the last one, he gets 30 seconds to hide it within the hall.  
\- It’s not a requirement to hold the team-frisbee but if it’s found alone by an enemy the whole team is disqualified. (30 points for the enemy)  
\- Catch the crown-wearer with his team frisbee; 40 points.  
-The team that survives wins.

Markus “the vulture” was the one who had collected the most points within her team and with that, was the next “king”. His laugh wasn’t unlike a dog bark and he flexed his right arm proudly to show off the crown-shaped band around it. The title of Queen was awarded to the trainer – who all did not participate in the game – responsible for the team; he or she got a tiara on the head.

Currently the Nest, six people in total, flocked – minus Markus - around their trainer, the crow. His once coal black hair had turned nearly white in the last few years and he had a soft down of beard. Despite his age, he still could outrun them all on the obstacle course. So far, only his stamina had suffered from age and only he could wear the tiara like a boss in comparison to the other male trainers.

Penelope liked praise and she especially liked hard earned praise from their trainer. He does it rarely, what makes them even more valuable.

“Great job today. And I have good news for you. Next week Dirk will be joining us, a possible new member.”

A variety of _wohoos_ and _yes’_ went through the group. They were the smallest of the five teams and were just at the minimum to be counted as a one. Other had to take members out during the game to give them a fair chance.

 

* * *

 

The week was gone quite quick, they all had jobs to do after all.  
Penelope worked at a remover, getting furniture and boxes from one flat to the other, sometimes meeting overly friendly people sometimes meeting complete douche-bags. It was always interesting to see how people went on with their day and how fast they could stress out or how they acted while stressed out. She even had it one time, that a woman had fainted in the middle of the stairs because she had thought, that she had forgotten something. Luckily a coworker had caught her.

Anyway, Penelope sat on one of the obstacle blocks in the parkour hall with a good view on the door. She did wait for ten minutes maybe as it opened a bit and an unknow head looked inside. That the crow – Henry was his actual name – approached him, was just further confirmation, that this had to be Dirk.

She jumped down, using a trampoline to cushion her fall and walked up to Henry and the newbie shaking hands. He was a little bit taller than her and had his dark brown, nearly black hair cut short. His clothes were held simple with grey sweatpants and a white shirt, that gave a free view on his tattooed arm. Especially striking was the scar that crossed over his lips.

Today only Luca, the Seagull, an average tall but lithe man with long limbs and sholderlong brown hair and Kiwi, a bear of man that could climb like an ape but can’t jump high to save his life and preferred to be called Kiwi instead of his actual name were present beside Penelope.

The training today mostly consisted of testing Dirk, if he had already existing skills and where his limits were. From what Penelope could see, he wasn’t a total beginner; he didn’t hesitate before an obstacle, but he didn’t seem to know what he could do exactly, making him falter if he had to jump a further distance.

Henry called for a break to prepare the true test for Dirk. Luca took the opportunity to ask an abundance of questions. They learned that way, that he was working as a bartender, preferred dogs over cats and had a sweet tooth. And Penelope noticed that he grew more and more hesitant with each question. She saw it as a clue to interfere.

“Come on Luca, lay off a bit. You are asking holes into him worse that in a swiss cheese.”

He just laughed but ceased with his asking. Dirk took a visible breather and took the role of the asker himself.

“Penelope, right?”

“Jup, but Nele is just fine.”

Kiwi threw in a sentence.

“Don’t let Markus know that Lope-Pope.”

“Markus-diddl-dee-doofus can go sulk in a corner and cry like a baby. Sorry Dirk, continue.”

“I know that this,” he pointed at Luca “is Seagull and this,” he pointed at Kiwi, “is Kiwi, I assume that you are the Owl?”

Dirk was totally right, Nele’s shirt was a dead giveaway. It had a white owl print on a brown background. The name was chosen for her love for books and late nights. And she liked jumping from high places unto a trampoline, going up again just like a true owl falling down onto its prey.

A call from Henry disrupted any further discussions, he was finished with preparations. While Dirk climbed up a block alone the rest got up upon another. Dirk’s task was to jump to them. Even if they made him space to land on, it wasn’t expected, that he actually made it. Even if there had been a few who did the jump on their first try, the general purpose was to see if the tested person could fall and more importantly, would go up again. For first timer the gap between the blocks had an extra layer of cushioning so nobody should get hurt.

Dirk was faltering, he looked down and skeptical at the distance he should jump. He looked from the gap to them and back again, his shoulders tense but he went back, all to the other end of the edge he had to jump over. They all could see the sagging of his shoulders and for a few moments it looked like he would back out.

His eyes steeled, and he ran;

And he _flew_ ,

His hand caught the edge and they rushed forward, grabbing his arm before he could fall. With joined forces, they pulled him up and showered him in awe and praises. The coldness in his eyes was gone in an instance and a small genuine smile took its place. The crow looked proud at him.

“I shall name you our eagle.”

 

* * *

 

Dirk came two, sometimes three times a week around the afternoon, settling into the team nicely. Jumping was his greatest strength as long as he didn’t have to do a somersault and his biggest problem was to find footholds for climbing.

He was a quiet person, never saying much, never asking much but he _looked_. Dirk watched them, watched the other teams like something would happen any moment. So far, Nele guessed she was the only one who noticed it; it took one to know one. But he tried to warm up to them, relaxing more and more at least within the team. A development they all could see and were happy about.

Penelope and Dirk were sitting together, getting a break. He swiped the sweat away with a towel.

“Have you ever thought about being a bird?”

She was a bit surprised that he started the conversation.

“Eh, yes. I mean we are all named after birds. I’d probably would try do a victory dance but fall upon my back when I do a pirouette.”

“You would do that, as a bird?”

“Yes, if I knew that I was human before. I think that being a bird would be very cool.”

 

* * *

 

The music was loud even outside of the bar. The Nest had decided to visit Dirks workplace as a kind of count down get-together because he would be participating in the game for the first time with them in a week. And they were curious to see him outside of the parkour hall.

Penelope didn’t like the mass of people squished into one place and forced herself to breath through her mouth instead of the nose to not get the full alcoholic aroma of the air. It didn’t take long to find him behind the bar. His whole demeanor radiated confidence while he mixed drinks, gone was the quiet and hesitant man. Using Kiwi’s tall statue and slightly intimidating look to make their way to the bar the six made themselves room at the counter.

“Oh hello, welcome at the Bad Weather, what can I get for you?”

It was a fun night despite the loud volume. Penelope wasn’t bothered by drunk people thanks to her team and Dirk also got her a place more to the side and even gave her a pair of earplugs. She was swaying to the now bearable loudness of the beat waiting for Dirk to finish. A coworker of him had found out, that he was part of the group and actually told him to wrap up and enjoy the time with them.

And that they did. Jokes and laughter all around and happy smiling faces. As the first of them started to tire, they called it a night. On the main street they dispersed in the directions of their homes. Hummingbird, the only other female of the group didn’t need an escort home, she lived together with the Kiwi. Their current relationship status was unsure but Nele guessed friends with benefits. The others didn’t bother with asking if she needed one, she would turn them down, but was Dirk was offering to get her home safely.

“Thank you, but it’s not needed. I am home in five minutes, just two streets down from here.”

“Then I’ll still walk with you.”

He looked determined making her huff out a breath.

“Fiiiine. You don’t have to make a huge detour?”

“I’ll get my motorcycle with me and drive from your home. Sadly, I don’t have a second helmet otherwise I would have driven you there.”

“Don’t worry your head.”

They walked around a street corner as Dirk stopped in his tracks. Penelope tensed too and tried to find out what was wrong, she couldn’t find something out of the ordinary. Dirk however, rolled his bike out of the way, locked it and took her hand. She got goosebumps.

And it was quiet, too quiet.

They started walking again, Dirk with a firm grip on her hand pulling her nearly along in a run. Everything was spun like a bow, waiting for release. While walking past the entrance to a dark alley the nervous energy snapped. Dark clothed men streamed out of it, pulling them inside before they had a chance to react.

What happened further Penelope didn’t know, for she blacked out.

 

* * *

 

Desmond came forcefully out of the animus, hitting his head nearly on the retreating glass over his face. His thoughts were all over the place.

“Bastards!”

“Now, now Mr. Miles…”

Abstergo Industries caught him, wants something from him in his mind. He either did what they wanted, or they induce him into a coma and let Penelope suffer. They had shown him a video feed of her, sitting in the corner of a small room, half hidden by a bed/bench combination with eyes wide. If Vidic had told the truth, she had been alone since she had awoken three hours ago.

He was angry. Angry at Vidic, angry at Stillman even if she did seem to be the nicer of the two, and more importantly he was angry at himself. For not being more cautious, more resistant getting Nele in the mess too. But they wanted him back in the Animus, that white uncomfortable bed-thingy.

Anger, defeat and apathy. He could only hope that she wouldn’t suffer because of something she just got pulled along.

 

* * *

 

The room was bright, too bright for her liking. She could be lucky, that she isn’t one of those people struggling to sleep with lights on, because they were always on or have panic attacks in enclosed spaces. She tried refusing the first meals she got pushed into her room, her _cell_ , though a tiny openable slit on the bottom of the only door. The door had a handle but seemed to be dependent on a card to unlock it.

When hunger ate at her insides, she put the first bit of food into her mouth. Penelope would never admit it, but she cried. A lot. Not loudly but the tears just streamed down in small rivers in the corner of her eyes.

It was a thin broth she got this time. Pulling the bowl to her lips due to the lack of a spoon she felt something beneath it. Something was duck-taped onto the bottom. Faster now, she emptied it and turned the bowl around to get a better look. Carefully as it would attack her at any moment, she pulled the tape away and gave way to a-

card

A simple white card without any printings on it. Her blue eyes wandered from it to the door. Maybe…? She stood up and went to the door, it couldn’t do more than fail.

She jumped as it beeped. And opened. She stepped outside quickly in her white/grey garb that was pushed sometimes too into the room. There was neither a pile of worn clothes or food-trays because someone always putted them away while she slept. Hastily she looked up and down the corridor and to her horror a blond woman came running.

“Wait!”

Like Penelope would do that. She took off as fast as possible, pressing the edges of the card nearly bruising into her hand. Somewhere an alarm went off. She found a staircase winding down and took shortcuts over the railing when the height was ok to jump down increasing the distance further and further to the blonde woman. Not even her calling and clicking of her shoes was hearable.

Dark dressed personnel, just like the ones who captured her, came the stairs up making her bolt through the door of the current floor sending her thought further derailing as she saw the famous Abstergo logo on the wall. She could barely hear the shouting from the many people following her over her own rapid breath – she would be able to continue like this.

In a split-second decision she turned around a corner and stopped at a random door. Smacking the card in high hopes on the scanner the door opened and she slipped inside, letting it fall shut behind her.

She was cursing at herself for basically trapping herself. Frantically she searched for a bit of light, nocking things over, hitting against other things, not noticing how a cable wound around her ankle.

The door opened, light went on and the personnel streamed in. Finally seeing her surroundings, and with that the oddly shaped door right behind her, she ran for it. The cable went taut, letting things crash to the floor on one side and letting Penelope fall on the other. But instead of hitting her head against the door she fell through.

 

* * *

 

Penelope was actually face down on the floor only there _was no floor_. She wasn’t falling either. It had to be an invisible floor because she could push herself up on seemingly _nothing_. Looking back, she could see the door frame bursting like glass and the cable that had been taut around her ankle was cut of where the doorway had been. With shaking hands, she pulled it off and looked around for the first time.

Her surroundings were cloudlike in a soft mixture between golden and pink, sunrise like but she was neither touching floor nor walls - like distance was non-existent.

“ _Again_? Why don’t they leave me alone, they aren’t the ones I am searching for.”

Surprised Penelope turned around. There was a softly glowing person shaped thing-being without any distinguished features.

“Oh, you aren’t one of them maybe you can help.”

As it approached her, she shuffled fearful backwards, falling over her own feet, left to watch her own doom approach.

“Please, don’t be afraid of me.”

Slowly, glowing hands wound around her and pulled her up into its embrace. She could hear her heart hammering away and waited rolled together like an embryo to cease existing.

Nothing really happened.

Whatever had her in its arms rocked her carefully like a newborn, brushing her messy and short dirty-blond hair into a more orderly hairstyle.

“Are you alright again?”

She was. Surprisingly. Penelope felt warm, loved and couldn’t feel any kind of malice. She opened her eyes.

“That is much better, there is nothing to be afraid of.”

It sank down on the invisible floor with her in its lap in a half-embrace.

“A heart-sister of mine is trying to safe your world and has to bet on a single man.” A small cloud formed into a familiar face.

“Dirk?!”

“That’s a name he has chosen and you know him? That is very good. Very, _very_ good. His name is actual Desmond Miles. It is foretold that he will have a choice just before the end, but we cannot see what he chooses.”

The being leaned back on its arms.

“On one hand he can save all lives for the cost of his own and the release of Juno, who wants to enslave you again or he lets it be, letting millions of humans be roasted alive but bring forth a new era of humankind.”

Penelope was puzzled.

“Why should so many humans die and what do you mean with being _slaves_ _again_?”

He explained the Isu, _those who came before_ , to her, how they fell victim to the sun, how and why they created humans in the first place and how humanity is now facing the threat of the sun again. Stress tears were once more straining her cheeks and it rocked her back and forth, cooing softly until she calmed down again.

“My dear, you need to see that Desmond needs a huge amount of energy to activate that shield but if he had another powerful source not only could he survive it, but he could keep Juno locked up too. Sadly, I thought of it too late, only after I chose my unfitting vessel, so I had no chance to speak to my heart-sister to tell her of my plan.”

Penelope just let a nearly soundless _how_ out.

“We created what humans call the Pieces of Eden. They are very powerful artifact and are radiating massive amounts of energy. My plan is – if you would agree to it of course – to send you back in time in a body that can save that energy. You’ll get all the time you need to collect enough, and you have the possibility to be a very important person to Desmond.”

“Important as in _lover_?”

“It doesn’t have to go to the last step if you don’t wish to, but everyone needs a true friend he can count on and tell all the crazy thinks he experienced.”

She shuffled a bit awkward and looked to the side.

“What would happen if I say no?”

It laughed lightly.

“Nothing, nothing is happening that you don’t want. I even would have let you out of that door without complaining but you managed to crash it while coming through. Now I would just keep you here, care for you until someone rebuilds the door.”

She was torn. Dirk – Desmond – has grown on her the last few weeks and from what she was told he will be going through _shit_. But time travel, for real? And what new body? Human, horse, whatever?

The being suggested sleep and sleeping she did.

As she opened her eyes again, she was laying on the floor with her head in its lap while it stroked her hair.

“Good morning, I suppose?”

“Good morning dear.”

And they just sat there in silence; it didn’t even ask about how she decided – if she wanted to time travel or not. They just sat there and sat and sat and did nothing else. And it went on until Penelope couldn’t anymore.

“What would happen with me if I say yes, or what would happen to you?”

“Well I would send you back in time as a bird, they are so powerful creatures and are a wonderful blueprint for an energy-saving body. As long as you are in this body I don’t exist because I have to give me to you in order to make this whole plan work. As soon as you are in the right time again, I am existing again and you get your original body back.”

“I would be a bird?!”

The being nodded. _It would be cool to be a bird._

“What would happen if I fail?”

“Nothing bad, I would be back to being me and you would be back to being you. Only Desmond, he still would have to answer the question for the world.”

Penelope thought. And she thought long. There were no repercussions for her should she fail and if she succeeded, she helped Dirk – Desmond big time. She had to think about how relaxed he looked when he jumped over obstacles or how happy he looked at the bar, mixing and laughing with the team. Wasn’t it irony, that her team was named after birds and now her new body would be that of a bird? Irony of life in its highest form.

“-do it. I’ll do it. I’ve got nothing to lose, but so much I could help.”

“Ok my dear, you just have to sleep, and I do my job.”

She was pulled again in a deep embrace, warmth rising in a pleasant temperature. Penelope asked for its name and it answered but her muddled brain didn’t pick it up, falling into the darkness of sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

> _Project TM_
> 
> _We have found an PoE in form of a key that, if records are correct, enables time-travel. […] The key worked, and the test-door is now some kind of portal. Any probe we have send into it came back again fried beyond recognition. The head of the research team went (unauthorized) through the door and came unharmed back. Volunteers that have done it afterwards report that something glowing in humanoid shape doesn’t let them through. We can’t achieve any process and now with the possible success of the Project Animus the focus lies now there._
> 
> _The project is on hold until further notice._


	2. I shall name you Risha. (1/7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter started to become waaay longer than anticipated. With currently about 3,5k it has a nice manageable length; long but not too long (at least in my opinion). So, while I am working now on the rest of the chapter: I present you the first third of it.
> 
> PS: I know little to nothing about how to truly care for an infant bird. If there is someone who wants to educate me, please do.

“There is the first one Malik!”

With fascination young Altair and Malik, who had his even younger brother in his arms, looked to the eagle nest. It was time for the baby-eagles to spread their wings and leave the nest and Altair just had spotted the first one to make the big step.

Caught in the wonder of nature they watched as one after another left the nest, three in total. Mama eagle stood beside it on the branch, looking after her young. To their surprise she pulled something out of the nest and let it fall while it screeched pathetically. Without looking at it she spread her brown wings and followed her children into the sky.

Curious Altair inched forward to see what the majestic bird had dropped. In retrospect the small one he had found could be very lucky to land on a pile of hay. Its grey feathers so fluffy it had the shape of a ball only with a tiny, little bit brighter beak coming out of it. Compared to its siblings it was hugely underdeveloped and didn’t look like a typical eagle-baby.

As Altair was directly beside it with the Al-Sayf brothers behind him, the baby turned its head looking right at him. The eyes were molten gold and its helpless screeching stopped. Slowly, not to frighten it further he reached out, hoping it wouldn’t pick at him. It didn’t, now its eyes followed his hand, but the bird itself didn’t move even as his hand enclosed the fragile body.

“Hey there.”

The small being was as soft as the fur his father once got him. He started petting it with a small smile across his lips as it moved into his touch.

“Are you going to keep it Altair? By its size I don’t think it will survive very long.”

“I will try, as long as its ok with you?”

The last part was meant for the bird in the palm of his hand. Trilling weakly, it swayed with dopy eyes. Altair’s heart nearly stopped; it shouldn’t die before he even had the chance to try.

“Malik, what should I do?!”

“Calm down for one, maybe it needs food or water. Who knows how much it got.”

Without waiting for the brothers, he pressed the small bird to his chest and took off to the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

The first thing different Penelope noticed was, that the loving feeling was gone. She was nicely warm and had a comfortable amount of pressure on her body, but the love the being had transmitted wasn’t present anymore. Lazily blinking she opened her eyes.

And was greeted by darkness.

Her stomach was growling, so she moved a bit around to test what exactly pressed onto her, something chirped, and the pressure went away. After the darkness the brightness of the sun was harsh, and she had to blink multiple times until her eyes adjusted to the light. Around her sat three beautiful birds and off to the side, she guessed, was the bit larger mama bird looking in a mixture of surprise and disapproval.

For the first time Penelope tried to find out how she looked. She only could see grey down-feathers and every time she tried to stand up, she fell forward. The eagles around her send angry glares at her that were surprisingly frightening.

Her stomach growled again and the one to her right chirped to her. Somehow, she knew that she just got called pathetic.

“Hey.” She startled herself as her _hey_ was a _hey_ in her mind but was actually a high trill.

The birds made fun of her and _pathetic_ was the nicest she got called. After a while she just gave up and laid on the bottom of the nest. That wasn’t what she had expected to happen. Just a bird for some minutes and directly insulted with no chance of returning the unpleasant favor.

Only with half her mind she registered, that the eagles started to leave the nest. The wake-up call came as the biggest of the four took her and just threw her out. The little pins of wings were useless and the ground advanced fast. Luckily, whatever she fell on cushioned her fall.

In the sky, she watched after the retreating silhouettes.

What now?

The sound of footsteps where behind her, making her turn. There were three boys: the one closest to her had a sun-kissed skin tone and bright brown hair and to the side behind him, was the second, darker skinned and black haired with the third and younger boy in his arms that looked suspiciously like his little brother.

Whatever the first one had said, she didn’t understand the language, but the tone was friendly, carefully. He reached out to her and for a moment she thought about fleeing but then remembered, that she was currently pathetic in her new body. Penelope didn’t struggle and was picked up slowly.

The eyes of the boy lit up and he started to pet her head. Maybe she should have protested but it felt _amazing_. Just like sinking in a nice and warm bathtub. It wasn’t long before she, unknowingly, leaned into the touch. She didn’t feel as warm as she was with the being, but she felt loved.

Her new body couldn’t keep up with the gnawing hunger anymore and she got dizzy. Desperate to stay awake she pressed herself further into the hand that was the only thing not moving around her. The boy said something quite panicked and cradled her against his chest before running of. Held like this she could hear his heart pumping and the wind blowing over the top of her head. It was nice.

It reminded her a bit of the small boat-tour she had done with her father – only it smelled less like salt. With her in the past her family shouldn’t notice her absence. How did time flow anyway?

The boy ran with her up a small mountain, the castle she could see than was…beautiful. The stone structure reached high up and had one entrance. In the inner courtyard he had to slow down a bit due to the many white-clothed people inside it. Quite many of them wearing hoods.

The inside halls were just as grand. Many wooden cupboards filled with worn books while people, wearing dark robes browse through them. Someone called and the boy stopped in his tracks.

 

* * *

 

“Altair what is wrong?”

“Father!”

Altair stopped and ran to him, pressing against him instead of the usual hug. However, before Umar could question it Altair revealed the bird in his hands.

“He got thrown out of the nest and doesn’t look well. Me and Malik guessed that he needs food and water.”

Umar took it out of his son’s hands to take a look at it himself earning a weak chirp. It even started to struggle a bit as he ruffled through the feathers to search for any wounds or alignments – he could find none. He gave the bird back.

“I can’t find anything wrong with _her_. Maybe food and water are the right answer.”

Umar motioned with his head in the direction of the kitchen and Altair smiled, taking the lead. Together they went inside. It wasn’t long until dinner, so the cooking ladies were already rushing around. Beside a crate in the corner they found a spot where they didn’t stand in the way in the usual buzz of the kitchen staff.

Relieved Altair breathed out as it – _she_ – drank alone as soon as he had held her over the bowl filled with water. First problem: check. Now was the question small bread crumbs or meat? Even if she didn’t look like an eagle, they decided to go for the meat first.

She was placed on the crate with a rug under her and Altair held a small stripe over her head. Confused, golden eyes looked from the boy to the meat and back again.

“Go on, eat it.”

Altair tensed up more with each second the bird didn’t eat. He was just short of changing to bread as it opened the beak wide and swallowed it in one go. He gave it two more that were gone just as fast, then she turned away from the fourth.

Laughing lightly Altair hugged Umar, who then ruffled his hair. Now the bird had a true chance to survive. While Umar took the bowl and a few more stripes, Altair picked her up again.

The halls started to grow darker as the sun started to sink towards the horizon, marking the time most came inside for the shared meal. During the whole dinner Altair kept her in one hand, never letting her down. Only opening his hand as Malik asked how the feeding went.

 

* * *

 

It was strange to eat raw meat and she did hesitate, but she was a bird now and hopefully one who was not limited to crumbs. So far, she was sated, and her stomach didn’t protest against it. Now at full mind capacity she tried to find out where she was exactly. From what she had seen and the language she had heard, she guessed in the Arabic region. And there was no electricity – none! That had to be at least 200 years in the past. And she would have to live it all until 2012!

That was very unsettling and she was grateful for the distraction of novelty and boy’s hand brushing over her feathers. The repetitive motion was soothing. Penelope gave it her best to understand _something_ of the language but so far, she only came to the conclusion that the boy was called Altair and the man, probably his father because they shared the exact same features only with different coloration, was called Alab.

The white clothing everyone wore with some variations seemed to be some kind of uniform, but for what exactly she didn’t know. All the medieval weapons like swords and knives didn’t ease her nerves but what’s happening now is happening. As long as she was in this small chicken body Penelope could do nothing, not even fly away and the true weight of her decision to become a bird was only slowly seeping in.

The father/son combo stood up and went a rather long staircase up, the way only lit by candle light. Beautiful rugs adorned the walls and a triangle design was found repeatedly – Penelope guessed some kind of logo but she hadn’t it in history.

They stopped at a room in which Alab went, Altair looking right at him waiting. The father just sighed and held the door open to let his son slip inside. She was placed on a rug once more while the two shuffled through the room. The water bowl wasn’t too far from her and she was thirsty.

A good reason as any to test out her new legs. As soon as she pushed herself up, she fell forward onto her upper belly.  Again. Again. And again. Altair came to her rescue and held her just above the ground where she realized her mistake. Save for a few larger birds like the flamingo or stork, birds had their legs always bend. Slightly crouched it was much easier to keep balance. The helping hand retreated, and she stood. In the ears of the two males, she chirped happy.

For her next step, she tried to think like a bird from the start, using a mixture between walking and jumping to reach the water bowl. As a human it would’ve been especially humiliating, toppling over every odd jump. And her try to drink out of the bowl resulted in her being soaked completely through. But as she heard the young boy laugh, she couldn’t stay mad for long.

She got dried as much as gently possible and Penelope had shrieked in surprise as the two started undressing in front of her. Altair threw her a questioning eyebrow in her direction but continued without a care in the world.

A hooray for not-blushing bird cheeks. Like seriously, right in front of her?! But then again, she was a bird. A female one sure, but not a woman. Her eyes were drawn to the abundance of scars on Alab’s back, a thin but long one starting on the shoulder, fading into the direction of the spine, looked just freshly healed together.

What had happened to him?!

Deep in thought she didn’t notice that the two were finished changing in simple shirts and shorts. Altair picked her up again and to her embarrassment, she hadn’t noticed, that she had relieved herself on the rug. Unfazed he got her another piece of cloth, that he shaped into the form of a nest that he placed on the stool beside the bed next to the candle. After placing her inside it he closed it over her, then followed his father into bed.

The candle got blown out and the room fell dark. Thanks to the moon, outlines were still visible and she could make out the boy’s hand as he grabbed her while trying to move as little as possible in his father’s arm.

Said father rumbled about something and the son replied quietly, but Altair simply pulled her including the nest to his chest. After living alone for a rather long time, the realization that Penelope missed the warmth of somebody else while sleeping, came as a small surprise.

 

* * *

 

The next weeks consisted mostly of adjusting to her bird-body and trying to make sense of the language around her. It was a god-send that Altair took her with him wherever he went including lessons, even if he seemed to have quite many conversations with adults that send her disapproving looks. She now could read numbers and she could identify if Altair wrote his name. That’s more than she thought to know in the few weeks’ time and less than she hoped it would be.  
Currently heights were her biggest enemy. Penelope could now stand and walk around but with her wings still not fully developed she could only get _off_ things not _on_ things. Altair had to hoist her up if she made any indication of wanting to get onto something. And she finally had somewhat control over her digestive system.

Her first – kind of – communication breakthrough with Altair was during a math-test. It took her normally longer that Altair to decipher the numbers but she noticed that he had made a mistake in the last addition that he had done.

From her now prime position on his shoulders she could easily pull on a strand of his hair. His head turned in question (into the direction of the wall, otherwise the teacher might have scolded him, for trying to cheat) and she looked at the slate in front of him. Penelope did it again after he tried to do the next one. He snipped lightly at her in disapproval, a move he often did when she did something he didn’t like. But as soon as he tried to continue again, she did it again and he paused. Altair’s hand hovered over the incorrect addition and revised it. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes as his hand moved onto the next problem – she didn’t pull his hair.

As Altair was dressed for the night, he set her onto the desk. He pulled the stool to him to sit on it and laid his head on the table to be on eye level with her. He asked her something, Penelope could make out the name he had chosen for her – Risha – but still understood nothing else.  He sighed and went to his box of belongings at the end of his bed. The room itself was made for two people with the furniture placed in a symmetrical order, the second bed however was empty since she was here.

Altair got his slate and wrote two simple addition problems, placing it then in front of her. His honey-brown eyes watched her intensely as Penelope tried to make sense of them. The solution for the first one was hart to read, but the second one was definitely wrong; she picked against it.

He took in a sharp breath and did two more. Now Penelope stared back and tapped with her foot against each of them, both were wrong.

 

* * *

 

Altair tried to block out the snickering of the other children. They thought him immature, speaking to his bird like if she would be a person but his test in math proved that the bird had the capability of learning. Risha had saved him from a day filled with very boring revision of math – he was average and that wasn’t enough in the eyes of his teacher. His father was an epitome of Master Assassin and they demanded of him to become the same.

His bird was the best thing that had happened in a while. Stuffed animals were for babies (he hid his horse at the bottom of his trunk, it was too dear for him to truly part with it) but nobody said anything against true animals. Risha was fluffy and seemed to like cuddling as much as he did. With her showing clear signs of growth, the adults wanted him to leave her with the other birds, but he had set himself a goal. He would teach Risha. She would become the best bird in the world. It was still unclear, what kind of bird she was; only that she was a predatory one. But he was named after a bird, why not own a bird then?

He sat with her on the smallest of the towers, the one they were permitted to climb up. In the beginning it was quite an act to go up with her as an extra weight he shouldn’t drop, now her talons were strong enough, so she could hold herself on his shoulders or stick to his back while he climbed. Altair was in the middle of feeding Risha when Malik approached – without his brother, who was staying with his father.

“Still talking to the bird?”

“Risha is more intelligent than all the other birds we have. She learned math, why should she learn speech.”

Malik crossed his arms and looked down to the still sitting Altair.

“You truly believe that this bird can learn more than a few tricks?”

“Don’t believe me?”

Altair sat Risha on his shoulder and stood up; in the last few days her talons started to hurt when she tried to balance – he would have to find a solution for that. He grabbed Malik’s hand and pulled him all the way to his room. Being without a mother and his father often away on a mission, he already lived in the novice dormitory. Secretly, he hoped, that Malik would get the second bed – he wasn’t as boring as the other kids in their age and his snarky comments were for everyone and not only focused on him, but he assumed, that Malik would get a room with his brother Kadar.

During the remaining daytime, Altair couldn’t swipe away the smug look off his face. He had proofed Malik wrong!

 

* * *

 

Penelope’s body started to develop. Her grey down feathers were replaced by ones of pure white. It was a little bit like in the story of the ugly duckling only that she wasn’t a swan, she was something akin to an eagle. She had the form of one and now had the size of a full grown eagle but she didn’t show any signs of stopping to grow.

They had waited for Umar to return from his last mission for the special occasion. With him as a supervisor, they were allowed on the higher towers. Penelope sat on Altair’s, now in an extra layer of cloth wrapped, arm and Altair stood beside his father at the edge of the tower. It was the highest Masayaf had to offer.

“Risha, you ready?”

She bobbed her head.

“Three.”  
“Two.”  
“One.”

 

* * *

 

Penelope was nearly suffocating in nerves. Her wings were large and beautiful but the final step, the _flying_ was a very scary thought. So far, she never attempted to fly and only flapped with her wings around to communicate a bit better. It was good that she started to understand what Altair told her otherwise she would’ve been thrown into cold water today. Even Alab was with them, increasing the tension in the air.

Altair started to count down from three and threw her into the air. It was the same feeling as being in a roller-coaster than just went over a peak. She couldn’t stop her eyes from closing. The wind tore at her and the wings unfold creating resistance against nature. The lurch went through her body, forcing her eyes open.

After the initial shock she was gliding gently forward into the sunset, wind caressing her feathers. With the rectrices she could maneuver left and right. She took courage and flapped with her wings. Instead of falling down she rose, higher and higher into the air.

Penelope laughed, chirped, happy and turned around, using Altair’s chest as a landing spot.


	3. I shall name you Risha. (2/7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes part two of the chapter and I couldn’t stop my pencil. It’s rather hard to come up with how Altair looked as a child if not his full adult face is known, but I gave it my best. Sadly, I seem to be too dense to put them in here too, can someone help me?

Half of the populace in the Masayaf castle was ill. Something with the dinner the day before went wrong, banning many to the confines of their beds – Altair included. Normally never truly ill, the boy felt miserable and just wanted it to end. It was hard to keep what remained in his stomach. Currently, he was sleeping troubled in his father’s bed.

As long as Altair was out of commission, Umar cared for Penelope. It was in a way lucky that he was without a mission at the moment, otherwise Penelope would’ve been put to the other birds. Since she could fly Al-Mualim wanted her to be properly trained to be a messenger bird and was always on the search for an excuse to part her from Altair. Umar had vetoed for his son and took on the task of feeding her.

Umar had thought about nothing in particular when he sat at his desk, writing mindlessly in his journal with the bird perched on his shoulder, as Risha overbalanced and fell over, squeaking and trilling agitated.

“What is wrong?”

Mindful of the talons, Umar took the distressed eagle in his arm and tried to calm it down while looking around to find the reason for her behavior; he couldn’t find anything sending his Assassin instincts to the edge.

Only slowly Risha calmed down and eventually fell asleep. Umar was unsure whether or not he should lay her down, decided then however to keep her in his arms. Not only Altair liked cuddling.

As Assassins relationships were hard to maintain and since he was promoted to Master old friendships started to fade away; only Faheem and Ahmad stood still in frequent contact with him, being the only two (beside his son) who had more body contact than a shoulder pat. Umar knew he wasn’t a model father figure, but he tried. And hoped that it was enough. He loved Altair with all his heart and even if he wasn’t good with words, hugs could talk louder in his experience.

He settled down at the windowsill, looking at the stars, calming his own startled heart. The cold night air blew in like a gentle caress, Risha a warm weight on his chest.

The calming moment was interrupted as Altair started heaving behind him and emptied his stomach content.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Altair was as good as new, his stomach only aching a little bit and his throat a bit sore. He was mentally back on tour as well and noticed the slight catatonic state of his bird sending his panic levels haywire, making his own remaining discomfort insignificant. Can birds catch human diseases? He coddled her, managed to get her to drink and eat a bit but her head hung low, she made little to no noises and just sat limply around. He didn’t dare to carry her on his shoulders and carried her around like a baby in his arms.  
That the rumor mill about him, was flaring up again didn’t help either. Bird boy, bird brain, _insane_.

“Risha, what is wrong?”

The bird just pressed herself deeper into his embrace. Abbas and Malik were the only ones who asked if everything was alright, but Malik said something that made Altair think.

_“She looks sad.”_

Maybe she was. Maybe she was missing something. He had seen often how Assassins react when someone dear to them never came back but they usually only showed true sadness when they are alone in silence. He only knew that, because he tended to hide himself and came across one or two Assassin’s crying in the darkness. He even gave the normally cheerful Rauf a hug as he found him in the stables after his fellow novice and best friend was killed in an accident. Assassins brought death and earned death, their only reward: the better world for the people. It was a noble cause his father followed, and it was going to be his own path too.

But what could a bird probably miss? Altair had no answer. She couldn’t answer him if he asked but he tried to cheer her up again. He groomed her carefully, showed her things he liked to do – jumping off things into hay for example – he even ran around, careful that nobody of his age group watched him, and held her up so she could feel the wind. Three days later, as he was running again, she opened her wings and flew again, trilling once more.

 

* * *

 

Altair was the sweetest boy Penelope had ever met. As Alab was writing in his book, she saw the year in the corner: 1175.  
It was like a heavy punch in the gut, leaving her breathless.

1175.

That was way waaaaaay much further than she had thought to be. That were…2012-1175…; 837 years in the past! How should she live through all of that? She liked Dirk – Desmond, he was a really nice guy and pleasant to be around; a possible great friend. But was he worth it? Could she do it? 800+ years? Probably not.

Her thoughts grew dark, very-deep-abyss-dark. But then there was Altair. She couldn’t tell him what was wrong and he had no way of knowing or guessing what troubled her but he gave it his best to cheer her up. He brought light into her darkness bit by bit until he created kind of a save place in her mind. She would never know if she could do it until the very end (she would fail most likely) but for him: Altair cared so much for her that she could continue for him at least for a bit. Penelope didn’t like sad children. So, she flew and tried to get herself back together. If only for the boy.

 

* * *

 

There wasn’t a huge temperature fall during the day, but the cold night got even colder: the only sign of the approaching winter. A wooly blanket was added to the bed and Penelope was happy, that Altair had no problem to sleep with her in his arm. He was a living heater. She finally stopped growing, her size nearly comical on the shoulders of the still short boy.

When the daily lessons were over, Altair now took her into one of the storage room, trying to teach her how to hunt. It went as well as one could guess. It was disastrous. More often than not Altair hit his head on one of the crates or when he stood up to early under a cupboard when he dived after a mouse. In Penelope’s opinion, it was a spectacle worth for youtube vines. It was like watching her own personal epic fail compilation. In the end, she let herself fall down, talons forward, and just landed with a loud thud on the mouse that was originally running from Altair.

They were doing it for quite a while, Altair scaring the mice out of small crevices and Penelope swooped down on them. One of the kitchen maids came in and saw them. She had giggled as she saw the dust-collecting Altair, but he got a sweet bread and she a very nice slice of meat as a reward as she saw all the rodents they had eliminated.

Despite the sometimes hilarious moments, a rather productive day. Altair was forced to bath much to his chagrin, he wasn’t very fond of the cold baths, but Penelope just fled from his gasp and waited in his room.

 

* * *

 

It always came up here and there, that Altair should give Risha up to be trained like the other birds, but he always had his fathers support. As the pressure grew too great, Umar tried once more to reason them, that Risha was an unusual intelligent bird bound to Altair, as a demonstration he proposed to take her with him to Jerusalem on his next mission and send her back. Her flight back should take half as long as the ride to Jerusalem – she would have to fly with only little breaks.

 

It had been a gable on Umar’s side. He wasn’t sure if she really could do it, sadly the next step would’ve been that Al-Mualim pulled rank and she would’ve been sent to the other birds anyway.

As Altair heard of that he was furious. He sat on his father’s bed, the eagle securely in his hold, and demanded with a loud voice how his father could’ve proposed something like this. Umar, expecting the outburst of his son, tried to reason with him. At least, now there was a chance, that Altair could keep her. Altair’s anger didn’t lessen but redirected to exclude his father.

Altair went to Malik to ask for maps. Malik understood maps very well unlike him. They were boring.

“Malik, could you help me with a map?”

Said boy sat beside his little brother in the shade of the outer wall, helping him with his writing-practice task.

“Can’t that wait for later? I’m busy.”

“No, Risha has to come back from Jerusalem on her own or she’ll be taken away.”

Malik pinched his nose. A move, Altair guessed, he had copied from his father.

“You sure that your bird can make it because it looked at a map?”

“Risha-.”

Malik interrupted him in a mocking tone.

“Risha is more intelligent than any bird. You repeat it often enough.”

Altair squared his shoulders, giving him his most serious face. Sighing, Malik relented, shoulders sagging.

“You will look after my brother and help him”, he empathized the _help_ part “and I’ll see what I can do with your bird.”

“Deal.”

 

* * *

 

Malik was now on his way to the library with Risha on his crudely bandaged arm. They had just used one of those, originally wrapped around Altair’s forearm. He eyed her skeptical, not even closely convinced that the bird truly was highly intelligent. Maybe highly intelligent for a bird. But he told Altair that he does this and he won’t back out.

He came to a stop in front of the large map on a wall.

“So,…here is Masayaf….”

It was awkward in the beginning, Malik won’t lie but it came more and more fluent with each sentence. It was…nice. In the end he still didn’t know if Risha understood anything, but she did look interested and listened. There aren’t many people who listen. Altair does not and Kadar does not very long, but he is excused due to his age and no adult save maybe his father would listen to him because they are _adults_.

He explained on and on without stopping, finding great joy in explaining the fastest and safest ways, telling stories he picked up about the cities, later on not only limited on the way between Masayaf and Jerusalem.

It took a while until he noticed his father out of the corner of his eyes. He smiled gently at his oldest son while Kadar was already napping in his arms beside him was Altair, not necessary smiling but his usual grump in his face was absent.

Surprisingly reluctant, Malik went to Altair. Before he could give over Risha however, she nuzzled his cheek. Only after her weight was off his arm, he noticed how much it actually ached after carrying her for such a long time.

 

* * *

 

It was the day of departure. Alab – Umar? Penelope guessed that Alab was the word for dad and Umar was his actual name after people who weren’t his son, repeatedly called him that; she would probably continue to think of him as Alab. However, he stood there ready with a horse to his right and the old beardy man she found quite creepy, was to his left. The old man however had a cage in his hand.

That made the alarm bells in her head ring. She was skyborne before Altair had even the slightest chance to restrain her. Not that he was strong enough (at least for now) to restrain her if she truly wanted to get away.

“Risha please, come down.”

Altair tried to get her back down. Penelope didn’t want to be held in a cage, she wouldn’t fly away from Alab on the way. From up there she could have a look longer on the old man. Alab had made a bow before him, excusing her behavior – despite his age, it looked like the grandpa was higher ranked. Penelope had stopped to think of the white hooded men as some kind of guardians, they trained way too much and Alab always came home with many scratches and she had found him cleaning blood of his clothes. And with the extensive stealth training it had to be something sneaky-murderous; Assassin maybe?

“You don’t want to be put to the others, do you?”

That came through to her. It was either now going into a cage or later probably forever. With a heavy stone in her gut she landed a few feet away from Altair, looking wherever he was not. He sighed in a mixture of sadness and relieve. Without further ado, she was picked up and put behind the bars.

“Just this once Risha, then never again, ok?”

Altair had a good reason but it still hurt her. In a cage like some common animal…well...for now she was one. In the oddest of times it eluded her that she wasn’t human anymore. Penelope’s cage was bound on the back of the horse and Umar saddled up. She didn’t listen to the old man talking. Altair said something too, but she didn’t listen either.

 

* * *

 

At the gate two more riders joined Umar and they left the city of Masayaf. To the sides boulders and stone walls piled up high. What had seem small from the sky was like gaping jaw from the ground. Like the dark corridor in finding Nemo just more depressing. All the stress tired her out, but the cage was too uncomfortable to sleep. The bottom was too hard to lay on in and the horse moved too much to keep balance on her talons while asleep.

The sky grew dark as the land started to flatten out, but they were riding deep until the night before stopping. Umar was distracted as one of his companions approached. Restricted by the cage she had no chance as the man grabbed her head and forced something over it; rendering her unable to see.

“Ahmad, stop!”

It was Alab.

“Risha, stop trashing around. I’ll take it off.”

His voice was a soothing tone at least addressed to her, making her stand still. Hands wound around her and took her out. Alab had her in his lab while he removed that thing over her eyes. Finally free she spread her wings, the companions calling out in alarm but she didn’t fly away. She was unbound and that was all she wanted and after the cold alone in the cage the body heat was welcome. Using him as a pillow, Penelope finally found sleep.

Umar was relieved as the bird fell asleep. It had been a mistake to cage her but it was Al-Mualim’s orders. With an angry glare he fixated Ahmad.

“What was that for? It was bad enough that we had to put her into a cage and you have to blind her too?!”

Said assassins, standing off to the side, crossed his arms and looked back equally angry.

“How should it otherwise be trained? Al-Mualim wants to train it as a messenger bird. Rightly trained it’ll be faster than any pigeon.”

“This whole trip was to proof that Altair did train her right and can keep her.”

During the discussion Umar had stood up with Risha save in his arms and now the two stood chest to chest. Faheem purposely went between them and pushed them apart.

“Stop arguing you two. How about we keep her out of the cage unbound and unblinded, leaving that detail out of the report but should she get away and doesn’t do what’s expected of her Umar, you have to take responsibility. But with your faith in her it shouldn’t happen, right? That alright with you?”

Silence stretched over the three; it was a wonder that Risha hadn’t woken up by the volume of the argument. It was Ahmad who yielded first with an angry huff.

“Fine. On your head Umar.”

Crisis averted, Faheem took the first watch.

 

* * *

 

Jerusalem was a grand sight. So far Penelope had only seen it on TV in the news. The last two days were rather relaxing for her – not so much for the three assassins. The leather padding made it rather easy for her to hold on them and due to them being adults they had broader shoulders what meant more space to sit on. Faheem had warmed up to her, but Ahmad did not. He was still angry creating a tension between the three.

She had been sitting on Alab’s shoulders when they approached the gate. Penelope was shooed off with a friendly smile so she would fly off to the sky. The three assassins found a hiding place between the white scholars.

To her horror she lost the sight on them as soon as they disappeared below the archway and didn’t reappear on the other side. She tried straining her eyes to find them in the hustle of the people but instead of focusing the colors seemed to fade away. Shaking her head, she found the familiar triangle symbol on the roof of a house, taking it as a clue to land instead of circling in the hopes of finding the three. She took a seat atop the wooden trusses peaking inside. There was a small fountain, a mountain of various colored cushions and a doorway that led from the conservatory-alike inside. She saw parts of a counter and heard somebody rustling inside.

It wasn’t long as her three missing people appeared beside her. Quickly she found her way on Alab’s shoulder who had to chuckle and petted her head. The person she had heard inside came to greet them. He looked even older and more wrinklier than the old man in Masayaf.

“Is the bird ready for his flight?”

Penelope cringed mentally. Even if the man couldn’t be held accountable for his age his voice was very smoky making it even harder for her to understand the few things she actually could by now. Thanks to Alab she got the gist: she had to get ready.

 As she was placed atop the counter a small rolled up paper on a leather-band was conjured. Knowing what it meant, she hoppled to the oldy and held out her neck.

To her confusion all men looked at her in question.  
She still didn’t get it.  
After a few silent moments the roll was bound carefully around her neck.

She was carried out by Alab and caught sight of an arriving messenger pigeon: it had the roll around its leg. Wouldn’t that be more of a hinderance? Anyway, she was petted for the last time.

“You just have to fly in that direction and you cannot miss Masayaf. I’ll come home as soon as my mission is finished.”

Penelope nodded and started her flight back.

 

* * *

 

“Altair its no use to just stand there and stare. You know how long it takes to Jerusalem, they probably haven’t even arrived yet.”

“I know Malik.”

Malik put his hand on Altair shoulders.

“Come join us as long as the sun is still bright, we want to play tag.”

Reluctant he followed behind his friend into the courtyard. They were currently practicing in the throwing range, giving the children enough space to play. Without them, there were five kids already waiting including Abbas.

“Look who has finally appeared, it’s birdy.”

Altair grumbled his name to himself, saying it out loud would’ve made him even more of a bully target. Being the last one to come in he had to be the first one to be the catcher. He was fast and strong for his age and had no problem to tag the first one in a matter of seconds. It was rather boring. Malik would’ve been the only one were he had to be on alert, but he too wasn’t caught.

Then it was Abbas’ turn. One of the younger had managed to chase him into a corner of crates and tag him there. Then used a slit between them to successfully escape the larger boy. Now Abbas was hot on Altair’s heels chasing him in particular, ignoring the others even if just had to reach out with his hand. He too tried to corner him against the smallest tower. His mistake.

With Risha he did it often enough and just used the familiar handholds to propel him upwards. From the edge he could watch in peace as Abbas struggled to follow him. Altair couldn’t stop his satisfied grin.

Huffing in exhaustion Abbas pulled himself over the edge. He steeled his resolve and ran to Altair following him for a circle round. Altair swung himself just back over the edge and climbed down until it was safe for him to jump.

From the tower top the children could hear Abbas’ frustrated shout.

 

* * *

 

Slowly the time came for Risha to return. He sat with Malik on the outer wall looking out to the horizon to find the silhouette of his bird. She would have until tomorrow morning to return in time. The guard stationed on this side already came to them to remind them, that dinner would start in a few minutes. But they stayed. Against the bloodred horizon it was like a smudge of dirt as first but as he heard the familiar cry, just deeper than a regular eagle he couldn’t stop himself from whistling back.

Altair pulled his shirt right once more. With Risha on his arm he stood in front of Al-Mualim’s personal study. His heart was beating heavy in his chest as he raised his hand to knock.

“Come in.”

He couldn’t stop the surprised twitch. Slowly he opened the door and walked inside. The cupboards were even fuller than the ones outside and a strong smell of herbs lingered in the air.

“So?”

Al-Mualim stood with his back to him at his desk. Altair had to breath heavily in order to calm himself. He was never before in the Master’s _personal_ room.

“Risha has returned.”

A hand motioned him forward and only as he approached turned around.

“The message?”

Hastily Altair stretched his arm out to give easier access to Risha who dropped her head, presenting the roll. With a critical glance he took the paper and read it in silence.  
The boy didn’t dare to move a muscle.

“The task is done accordingly, Risha stays yours. Dismissed.”

Altair was gone as fast as the wind. _For now,_ hung heavy in the air.

 

* * *

 

It took more than two weeks for Umar to come home and he looked a bit troubled. Altair didn’t know what it was and he didn’t told it Risha in private either.

They slept uneasy and restless but Alab went back to normal until Altair was loudly awoken just shortly before he had actually to stand up. A novice came into his room and woke him by pulling his blanket away and haul him up. He barely had time to pull on his shirt and trousers before he was ushered into the main hall. Many were already there. It was thanks to Risha that he found Malik, Kadar and Abbas. They didn’t know what was happening. Only after a bit of listening and puzzling especially on Malik’s side they pieced together that an envoy of Salah Al’din stood at the castles entrance. They had Abba’s father! After that information came out the boy ran off followed by the other three but a guard stopped them.

A very heavy stone laid in the pit of Altair’s stomach and made it difficult to breath. Something was wrong and he had to know _what_.

“Fly Risha!”

The guard was unable to stop her and she flew outside. Alab stood beside Al-Mualim and she just caught his last sentences.

“I ask you one final favor. That you see to the care of Altair. Accept him as your novice.”

 _Final_? That was bad. Very bad. With a mantra of _nonononono_ she turned and flew back as quickly as she could. The boys were still held back now by two guard. Penelope used her momentum to crash into the one holding Altair, giving him the time to slip past.

She could hear him shouting out in distress for his father. After the impact she had to rearrange her wings before she could follow Altair.

Something could’ve been done.  
Nothing could’ve been done.

Altair cried for the first time in forever.

A puddle of blood.

One called Shihab was contend.

Alab.

Umar Ib’La-Ahad was without a head.


	4. I shall name you Risha. (3/7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyho you lovely people,  
> Before anything can possibly happen for those of you who need it there is a TRIGGER WARNING in the notes at the end.  
> Otherwise I got help from DreamofStories  to check this thing for spelling and grammar mistakes. Thank you very much.

Time slowed down.

They should have noticed, that something was wrong when Ahmad came into their room sickly pale with his pupils blown wide. He had been stuttering, shaking like a leave in a storm barely holding onto a branch.

They had been doing ok, Altair more so than Risha. They had been doing _fine_ – as good as one could be with a just deceased father. There had always been the possibility of Alab not returning. Altair knew that and tried to not succumb to the dark pit of sadness. It was the first time seeing death for Risha, but the two had themselves. In the last few days Altair always carried her in his arms like a child would his most precious toy. They had been doing _ok_.

They should have noticed sooner but Ahmad was a Master Assassin, fast, precise. The blade flashed only for a second in the candlelight. It cut through the assassin’s throat - a clean cut.

Ahmad’s death rattle let the time continue again. His eyes rolled backwards, body crumbling to the floor. As Altair jumped off the bed and Risha remained seated in shock, a puddle of blood began forming underneath Ahmad.

Altair’s soul shattering shriek echoed hollow in Penelope’s ears. She should look away - somewhere, anywhere - but the sight had caught her and wouldn’t let her go. Ahmad looked so sick; dark-deep rings under his eyes, the remains of tears on his cheeks. The blood was still oozing out of the wound, widening the pool further with each passing second.

Not even the bang of the door got them out of the death’s spell. Two guards on patrol had heard Altair and came immediately. While the first one scooped up Altair, pressing her into the arms of the shaking boy, the second one called for reinforcements. They got carried out of the room, away from the scene – one they would never forget.

After that was a bit of a blackout.

Awareness came back to them in a secluded corner in the smith’s workshop in the back of the castle. Altair was sitting on the floor while he hid his face in her feathers, the sound of grinding metal filling the silence. It was soothing, it gave him something else to focus on. Not the _why_ and the _how_ that was bouncing endlessly in his mind - accompanied by the gruesome sight of it-

In this position, Malik found them. He sat down to Altair’s right and shuffled closer until their shoulders were barely touching. Altair accepted and leaned further into the touch. Malik hadn’t been told what had happened, but as the closest child to Altair he was told to find him and get him to the Mentor.

“Al-Mualim wants to see you.”

The answer was a nod at his shoulder. Slowly the two boys split again, Malik being the first one to stand on his feet. He pulled the other boy up, never letting go of the hand until they reached the Mentor’s study.

From there on, Altair had to go without him. A guard opened the door for him and pushed him gently inside. Al-Mualim stood still in front of the window flanked by two others. The only thing Penelope took out of the resulting argument was that Abbas would be told nothing – to his knowledge, his father died during a mission. That, and that Altair had the opinion Abbas needed to know the truth.

When they finally shuffled back, exhausted beyond measure, any trace of the body was gone. The only indicator, that something was different, was the missing small carpet that normally was right beside the bed. On autopilot, Altair dragged himself to the bed and let himself fall down. He nearly crushed Risha, but was too emotionally drained to care.

 

* * *

 

Altair left Penelope in Malik’s care to deal with Abbas. The sun stood high and most of the people that normally occupied the training ring sat in the shade of the walls.

Malik looked troubled, a small wrinkle on his forehead. His gaze always wandering to the entrance gate. However, he never said a thing.

Minutes passed. One minute, ten minutes… after a while Malik grew restless. He put Penelope on his other shoulder and went the same way Altair had gone. The scene they arrived at wasn’t pretty.

“You attention-seeking LIAR!”

Altair and Abbas were full-out brawling, punching each other black and blue. Other kids stood in a half circle around them, following the spectacle. It was surprising that no adult had heard them and come to deal with the fight. Before Malik could’ve said something however, a shocked gasp went collectively through the group: Abbas had somehow hidden a small knife on him – something they weren’t allowed to do until they were officially declared novices. With a mighty swing he nicked Altair’s lips - barely missing his eyes.

While Malik picked up the lightly bleeding Altair from the ground, Risha plunged at Abbas. Her talons bore into the unprotected arm that held the knife and her beak crashed punishingly into his shoulder. Whereas Altair had been too shocked to voice his pain, Abbas howled sky high, letting go of the weapon. She grabbed it and landed in front of Altair, wings spread wide.

“You little-.“

“ENOUGH!”

Before Abbas could finish his sentence, Al-Mualim arrived. His shadow was a looming entity on the floor between the two fractions. While most of the other kids scattered after the Mentor’s arrival, two of Abbas’ friends helped him to his feet opposite where Malik was steadying Altair on the other side. Risha on guard in between them a talon possessively on the bloodied knife. If Abbas’ looks could kill, they’d be dead five times over.

“Malik, make sure that Altair cleans the wound, but it won’t be treated otherwise. Let it be a lesson for you Altair.”

He walked up to them and slightly intimidated by his presence, Risha retreated to the two, giving way to the knife. Al-Mualim picked it up and turned to Abbas who was shaking in his boots. Altair heard nothing more than the beginning of the scolding because Malik was dragging him away.

Malik maneuvered Altair through the stone halls into his room and sat him on his bed, Risha then followed him to get the water bowl. Malik refused to let her sit on him while her talons were bloody and instead cleaned them thoroughly at the fountain. Only then was she allowed on his shoulder, the best padded place on him for her to perch.

They returned to Altair who sat just like they left him, face emotionless and his back ramrod straight. While Risha landed on his right, Malik stopped in front of him and started to wipe away the line of blood that by now disappeared under his shirt.

“I just told him the truth Malik! Only the _truth_.”

It was like a broken dam as Altair started to recount what had happened. He repeated himself more than thrice, but he told Malik everything - from the beginning to the end. As he was finished, they half sat, half laid against the headboard side-by-side staring at the ceiling with Risha squashed up between their thighs.

While Altair was more or less a puddle of emotions, Malik was still strung like a bow.

“Malik what’s wrong?”

“It’s-.”

“Don’t say nothing, you’ve got that wrinkle over your brow.”

Malik sighed heavily, he too was emotionally strained and – while he would never admit it openly – he was afraid.

“At first it was Umar, then Ahmad too. My father is gone too long…he was never away this long without your or Abbas’ father.”

The _I am worried_ hung unspoken between them. Altair’s gaze met that of his bird. She nodded subtly.

“We could send Risha to look out for him.”

“Truly?!”

Altair nodded.

“We send her off first thing in the morning.”

Malik was speechless. He never expected Altair to be that generous, the boy normally thought only about what’s best for himself – not for others. Altair disrupted his musings as he pulled the other boy lower into a deep hug. In vain, Malik tried to untangle himself but the other boy held strong. With another deep sigh he gave in and closed his eyes to sleep.

 

* * *

 

It was the same position they found themselves in the next morning. Both clinging to each other, Malik’s head tugged under Altair’s shin and Risha nestled between them, now at the height of their bellies.

They hurried to change their clothes – Malik into ones lent by Altair. They weren’t too different in height - at least for now. The lip-wound had only reopened a bit at the lower edge and the little bit of fresh blood on Altair’s shin was gently dabbed away.

In his finest writing, Malik bound a note around the bird’s neck. She should make a stop in Jerusalem and hopefully get directions because Malik was never told more than the bureau which his father had to report to during his missions.

He couldn’t stop himself and hugged Risha before Altair said his last goodbye and sent her on her flight. Malik would’ve stared after her for a long time, if Altair hadn’t dragged him away.

 

* * *

 

Penelope let herself fall into the familiar repetitive motion of wing flapping. She was a bit scared of herself: Not only did she tackle Abbas like the guard a few days prior, she had drawn blood and had been ready to go _further_. And that was the problem, she felt no remorse. Still didn’t! She had been ready to kill for Altair.

Ready to _kill_.

She shook her head. Malik’s request had been a godsend. She and Altair normally woke each other multiple times during the night when one of them was wildly thrown out of a nightmare, and today it had been Altair’s first night to sleep through. Her trashing luckily didn’t wake the boys and she used the opportunity to squeeze herself between them getting the warmth she normally got by sleeping under the blanket in Altair’s arms.

Some nights she saw Alab’s execution over and over again, lately they had been replaced by a beheaded Altair. Last night it had been him and Malik lying in a sea of their own blood with dead eyes open staring into thin air. As a bird, she could get naps during the day replenishing some of the lost energy but Altair didn’t. It was surprising to her that nobody had noticed his sleep-deprived behavior. Was nobody close enough to notice? Hopefully the two boys would help each other until she was back.

Below her the world sped by, the tailwind catching her wings and propelling her ever faster forward. Even as the sun warmed her back and shone onto the land, in her view, everything lost color. What a strange sight. But everything was so sharp – she could see every little stone on the floor.

It got even stranger as she approached the gate. The sun had set maybe two hours ago but the day’s light didn’t matter in the colorless vision, she still could see everything in high definition. There were some reddish and blue hues in the streets of Jerusalem but that was about it.

Penelope’s talons clacked lightly as she landed atop of the wood surrounding the bureau’s entrance. Tired and hungry she shook herself – and was back to normal vision. She could still see too many parts in gray put it was the normal twilight shades.

With as much of a sigh she could muster as a bird, she let herself glide down through the doorway to the inner parts of the building. The old rafiq still sat at his table browsing through different books and scrolls in the candlelight. He turned his head to her and rose a brow in question.

“I did not expect a new bird already, did something happen?”

Penelope still understood like half of the sentence but from the way he made space on the table, his intention was clear and she hopped over, presenting the message. While the dark, nearly black eyes sped over the paper he held a small monologue. Faheem’s boy – Malik – was mentioned, an assassin gone missing, but most of it was lonely words scattered around.

In the corner of her eye a mouse appeared under one of the stuffed shelfs. Once more her stomach growled at her in hunger. The Rafiq still mused over the massage and probably wouldn’t feed her in the next few minutes.

She was hungry now.

Not in a few minutes.

Without further thoughts she jumped off and used the pull of gravity to fall onto the mouse – it was dead within seconds crushed under her (for a bird) impressive weight, and pierced by her claws. Only as she had swallowed the whole animal and noticed the interested look the rafiq gave her that she realized she had just ate a mouse. A mouse! She never had tasted any kind of rodent before save for maybe one or two rabbits. But they had been expertly prepared by her mum and had tasted heavenly, the mouse however, she had swallowed it whole – skin and fur included.

 

* * *

 

The Rafiq chuckled softly, the bird must have been hungry. They had a small cage with caught rodents for the few predatory-kind of birds they had in the order but _Risha_ , as she was called in the letter, had just got her own dinner. Faheem’s oldest son must have been very worried if he asked Altair of all people to lend him his bird.

The three Master Assassin’s had often sat on the cushions outside, telling tales of their respective sons. It was sad that he wouldn’t see them again. They always brought a sense of calm over the novices that came in and out with their years long experience. Even if Faheem’s death wasn’t official, he didn’t believe that he would be found alive. He had been gone too long.

He would humor the boy and send the bird in the direction Faheem went to investigate. Closure would be better. In the meantime, the bird had jumped back onto the table. She was a fine specimen: strong with fine white feathers. When she molted and changed to a newer set of feathers, hers would probably be collected to be used as markers for successful assassinations. It would spare some new novices the long and – for newbies – extremely exhausting climbs atop of the highest towers to collect feathers.

Her golden eyes still stared at him. With a friendly huff he held out his bracer-adorned arm to let her hop on. He pulled a ladder out of the corner to make his way onto the roof, he wasn’t the youngest anymore, and pointed into the right direction, sending her off.

 

* * *

 

Around her the world faded anew into grey. Even if she had a direction, she had no clue how far she had to fly so she just flew forward and forward and further forward. At first, she thought it was a trick in her mind but on the ground was a thin line that had a light-pulse behaving like a heartbeat. With a beat… in the opposite direction of her flight.

Her curiosity caught, she landed on the sandy ground. The line by itself was gone, but now heavy footprints were highlighted, leading in the same direction the pulse had. Her mind said no but her instinct told her to follow the footprints. As she looked around she could only see a small caravan with their backs to her on various kinds of steeds – they wouldn’t have made the prints.

She used a small rock formation as a direction point in case she needed to continue her original flight-pattern but for now she would follow her instincts and go after the imprints. The first dark spot made her falter, the second urged her on to continue faster. A third followed, and a forth each one bigger in size.

The trail led into a formation of different sized boulders. With so many of them blocking her view she was forced to land to follow the trail. By now she didn’t wonder over the reappearing thin and pulsing line if no footprints could be made out anymore.

Penelope heard his labored breathing before she saw Faheem hidden in a small alcove. The left side of the Assassin was soaked in blood and his eyes looked unfocused onto the stone. He must have heard her horrified chirp for he slowly turned his head. His gaze focused onto her and a fine smile adorned his face.

“Risha, is that you?”

Trilling agitatedly she walked to him and pressed into his right hand that was weakly lifted off the floor.

“It’s so good to see you.”

He had to take a rasping breath before continuing.

“I-…you have to get a message to the bureau.”

As if to contradict his next words he coughed, rattling his whole body in the process, as he saw her looking his bloody side.

“I am fine.”

His hand wandered in the direction of his pouch but Penelope interrupted. She was deeply out of her depth and miles away from her comfort zone and wanted to do anything she could. With a bit of tugging the remains of the buckle came loose and she pulled the pouch off. She placed it right beside his hand after she opened it.

Every tremor in the once strong assassin hurt her soul. On a small piece of papyrus that she had to pin on the ground for him, he scribbled a message with coal. He was sweating and panting by the time he was finished and as Faheem leaned back it had something _final_.

“Risha…bring this to my sons…”

Penelope shrieked in alarm as his head nearly lolled to his chest but he caught himself with fluttering eyelids.

“The-…roll in there too…”

With his last command, his head sagged lifelessly forward. If it wasn’t for the small rise and fall of his chest, she would think him dead.

“Fly Risha…”

Hastily she searched and found the mentioned roll in the pouch. If she was fast enough, she could get help! She flew faster than she ever had before.

 

* * *

 

She arrived in the bureau with the first morning light, barreling into an unknown assassin before making a small mess on the Rafiq’s table. The Rafiq had a knife pointed at her while the assassin had his hidden blade out. A novice’s curious eyes looked behind his teacher.

“Master, this is Altair’s bird!”

The two adults visibly relaxed. Penelope opened her talons and let the roll go. Curiously the Rafiq picked it up and found out it was addressed to Al-Mualim.

“What is the other thing you carry?”

Penelope still held the small message tightly in her beak. With a headshake she refused to let go of it. Before she could be grabbed, she glided over to the doorway and flapped hastily with her wings hoping someone would get the massage and follow her.

“Have you found Faheem?”

She started to jump around with more fervor. The Rafiq took the cue and turned to the Master and Novice pair.

“Do you have anything important to do?”

“I only wanted to prepare some training tasks for Rauf.”

“Ok, can you follow this bird? She probably found the missing Faheem if her behavior is any indication and she is as intelligent as Altair claims.”

The Master Assassin wasn’t convinced that a mere bird could do such a feat but Rauf, who had heard plenty about Altair’s pet, trusted him at least enough to persuade his teacher follow her for now.

With now two humans in tow, that had to get unnoticed out of town and find horses, everything took far more time that she wanted, and she was forced to circle over their heads more than once. By the time they arrived at the cluster of rocks the sun had passed its highest point.

With her size, she didn’t realize that some of the passages between the boulders were too narrow for an adult and it was Rauf who had to crawl after her until his master found another path to follow them.

Faheem looked even worse than when she had left him, pale and still unconscious. As the novice saw the extent of the man’s injuries he hastily crawled back and emptied his stomach contents. Then he called out an answer to his master’s questions, helping him find a suitable way in.

As the master finally managed to carry Faheem out of his hiding place his breathing was nearly non-existent, and the sun was nearly gone. When they came near the gates of Jerusalem, Faheem drew his last breath.

The master lowered the body gently to the ground. Penelope didn’t know about his passing until she had landed beside him. Hit by sorrow she cried her pain out to the world and succumbed to the darkness of exhaustion.

 

* * *

 

She awoke to the repetitive motion of a walking horse. Rauf held her in one arm while steering his steed with the other. A view to the side revealed the master with an ominous bag tied onto the back of the horse and the sorrow hit her anew. She hadn’t been fast enough. Faheem was dead and she had failed Malik.

Malik.

The message!

Rauf noticed her struggling.

“I bound the note around your leg, the Al-Sayifs need to see that.”

True to his word the small parchment was rolled up and bound around her ankle. She flew. Penelope could do nothing else at the moment than finish her mission. Even with the bad outcome. The band around her ankle scraped painfully, she was hungry beyond measure and still tired out, but everything seemed minor.

Wingbeat after wingbeat - always in the direction of Masayaf.

 

* * *

 

The Al-Sayif brothers played in the shade of their house at the foot of the Masayaf castle. Their mother had just started to hang up the freshly washed clothing as Risha arrived.

As soon as Malik saw the sorry state she was in he knew something had gone wrong. She was swaying, exhaustion radiating off her in waves, her feathers in disarray. He slowly approached and fell to his knees in front of her. Kadar was looking at them with his naïve brown eyes while Ms. Al-Sayif looked in a mixture of puzzlement and curiosity.

Malik unbound the message around her leg and read it. Risha found herself in a bone-crushing hug while Malik silently cried. By now their mother understood that something was wrong and picked the message out of the dirt. It was written in a messy script but was undoubtedly Faheem’s handwriting.

_I am sorry to leave,  
I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> Beside the canon-typical violence and death the chapter starts with a suicide and to small parts on what happens afterwards.


	5. I shall name you Risha (4/7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyho, here is the next chapter once again beta'ed by DreamofStories  :)

Time is a fickle thing. One moment it goes slower than a snail, the next it goes at supersonic speed.

It seemed like yesterday that Penelope had watched the initiation of Altair into the Brotherhood alongside Malik and gained - much to their annoyance - Abbas as a roommate. It was a source of endless friction between the two and never gave them time to cool their heads and act like the “brothers” they were supposed to be. But Malik always had an open ear that kept any bigger escalations at bay, and even when Kadar joined him in his room after their mother withered away in grief. Malik’s door was open.

Now she sat on top of a shelf in the grand hall to witness the next milestone of her boys – what a thought, she had claimed them like family as they had her.

No amount of training could now keep the adolescent novices fully still. Every time the gaze of trainers turned elsewhere, feet were shuffled and posture corrected. Altair had by now lost all of his baby-fat and had grown lithe and tall even if he still was a bit… clumsy with his new body-length. He would adapt quickly enough.

Penelope was just happy that he wasn’t one of those boys who lusted after everything that wore a skirt. There had been a few awkward moments in the morning that were probably more humiliating for him than for her, but she just left the room for a while to give Altair some private time. A blushing Altair was cute, there was no denying it.

In those moments she missed having a mobile phone around just to take photos for blackmail – especially after Malik had walked into a _private_ moment. She had been sitting in Kadar’s lap getting a round of belly scratches as Malik stormed into the sibling’s room face a nice tomato shade (a nearly unbelievable feat considering his skin-tone); he and Altair couldn’t look into each other’s eyes for many days.

The adults in the room snapped to attention. With the grace of a predator Al-Mualim descended the stone stairs, arms folded at first into his sleeves but opening into a wide gesture as he reached the bottom.

“You are here today to receive the blessing of the blade. It is not just a simple tool, it’s a weapon of finesse – hidden and ready to strike. The power released with only a flick of the wrist.”

The ash-brown eyes wandered from novice to novice, all trying to only look ahead. The tension in the air was thick and grew with each passing second. Sharply, the Mentor turned to the side and paced back and forth in front of the novices.

“The blade demands utter devotion and wants proof in flesh. Each one of you will be asked separately if he is ready to take the next step. There shall be no dishonor on those who decide against it or want to postpone the ceremony for a year. Once it’s done there is no way back. You’ll be marked for life. Take your time and choose wisely.”

Each fully trained adult – be it master, mentor or rafiq – went forth and picked a novice out of the crowd. Altair was taken by Mohamed, a Master Assassin who had his best days behind him thanks to an old knee wound and was now working in the smithy. He was a kind fellow marked by sun and age. Penelope caught Altair’s gaze, his eyes like molten gold in the adrenalin high. She could only nod to give him courage, it was something he had to do himself without her aid – not that she could anyway. The rite had been heavy on his mind in the last few weeks and his last look before sleep had always been to his ring finger.

 

* * *

 

His heart was like a hammer in his chest pumping blood continuous. Today was no day of thinking, it was a day of commitment. He had dwelled long enough on his choice the last few days.

Altair would accept the blessing of the blade - getting one step further in following his father’s footsteps. Alab had always been proud of what he did - telling stories of all the things he encountered. Sometimes just small things that had made him smile, sometimes he told of his blood-rush when he was just about to spring onto his target… but what Altair enjoyed the most had been the stories of all the new things he learned.

‘ _The world is larger than we know son, even if Masayaf’s library is grand true knowledge lies all around you not only within these protected walls.’_

That’s what he used to tell him, he should listen and learn from all around and that was only possible if he was either an Informant or Assassin – the only positions that travelled longer distances. But Altair not only wanted to learn. He wanted to change things, do the right things…protect people. To become an Assassin was the most effective way to do so.

Altair had seen Mohammed a few times during his explorations of the castle. Even if the Assassin was no longer on active duty he still held this _predatory_ air around him without even trying – he must be beyond terrifying if he tried! His limp did nothing to dampen it and all the smith-work led to an even more intimidating presence. While Assassins were lithe and most of the times not overly tall, Mohammed was a giant mountain of muscle. Now he was smiling sunnily down at him, hand clasped behind his back leading him to a secluded room.

Inside was a large wooden table with a small innocent looking knife laid upon it.

“From your look you have already decided Altair, didn’t you?”

He nodded solemnly.

“Then I am going to spare you the speech about how much of a life changer the blade is – a weight to always carry it around. You look determined, come forth and receive your blessing.”

Mohammed prepared the chair he had to sit on. One rope was bound around his hip to keep him seated. His left arm was bound to the wide armrest and his right was bound to his thigh. With him now seated, Mohammed appeared even taller and he couldn’t stop a slightly scared gulp. In one hand, the man had the small knife, in the other a piece of leather.

“As it is custom I have to ask: Altair Ibn-La’Ahad, are you ready to commit yourself to your blade?”

By now Altair’s heart was pounding against his chest like it wanted to escape. He was sure without a drop of doubt, that he wanted to embrace the Hidden Blade but in this critical moment all the bad rumors swirled around in his mind: Excruciating pain, inflamed fingers – wrongly amputated fingers because the adult that led the ceremony tried to server the finger in one go and hit the wrong one. Shakily Altair forced a breath in and out before he forced everything from his mind.

“I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”

The leather stripe was pressed against his lips and he took it between his teeth. With a deep breath he leaned back and closed his eyes. In and out.

In. And out.

“Altair.”

Mohammed’s stern voice cut through the silence.

“Look.”

As soon as Altair’s eyes were open and fixed upon his hand Mohammed brought the knife down. _Excruciating_ pain didn’t cover what Altair felt in that exact moment when the blade met his finger. His whole body jerked in response, trying to shy away, but the rope kept him from moving around too much. The legs kicked back and forth, barely missing Mohammed’s shinbone and his head could shake around but then with the third hit, his ring finger was gone.

Tears streamed down his cheeks and his cries echoed loudly despite the fact that he had something in his mouth. By the time Mohammed cauterized the wound with a small piece of hot iron, Altair had blacked out in pain.

The remaining stump of his finger was bound in a clean strip of cloth and the training bracer got fasten around his arm. Then Altair was unbound and Mohammed picked him up carefully to bring him to his room.

As he reached the stairs, a bird’s cry reached his ears and soon after he had an additional weight on his shoulder. They had warned him about Risha, the white eagle that followed the boy around and protected him at all cost. Everyone who had tried to bully Altair met her claws and hard beak. Now, he only saw concern. The bird’s face hovered over the boy’s head where it leaned against his shoulder and she cooed softly at him.

“He is out cold, it’s better for him so leave him be.”

As if she understood him the bird ceased his chirping and sat still on his shoulder until Altair was safely in his bed. There she jumped off and laid down on his chest. Chuckling lightly at the pair, Mohammed pulled the stool away from the small desk in the room and sat down beside the bed. He would wait until his charge was awake again but even the quite loud entrance of a rafiq that could barely hold the equally unconscious Abbas didn’t wake him.

 

* * *

 

Training picked up tenfold. A larger amount than normal had chosen to accept the blade so they had been parted into two groups that ran and jumped all around the city at the foot of the castle. In weapons training many struggled with the additional weight, but Malik and especially Altair took to it like a fish to water. It was not only because they were adept learners, but because they had become used to carrying around extra weight thanks to Risha, whom was heavier than a Hidden Blade could ever be.

Weekly, novices dropped out of the heavy training because they couldn’t keep up. Waking up early, running and fighting until one could barely stand upright, falling asleep way into the night. But five endured until the end. Altair, Malik, Abbas and two more. They had the chance to become _Master Assassins_.

The final test was the famous Leap of Faith before they got their private teachers. And they had to train without an instructor. Jumping into hay was easy, rolling on the floor was easy too but making the roll in the air to land on his back was something Altair just couldn’t get right.

Rubbing his hurt backside after he jumped out of the cart, he made his way over to his companion. She keened as he scratched just below her beak, an area that was hard for her to reach.

“Do you have any ideas, Risha?”

Her head turned to look somewhere behind him. Following his bird’s direction, he saw Rauf who had just been left behind by his teacher.

“I should talk to him?”

Risha bobbed her head in a _yes_ movement. Altair rose his eyebrow unconvinced, but she jerked her head to Rauf. Sighing Altair turned away from Risha and made his way over to the older trainee. Who turned around in surprise as he noticed him approaching.

“Altair? What is it?”

Altair made a reluctant pause before he got his question out. He never had asked for help in training before, only for sparring partners.

“I- Could you help me with the Leap of Faith?”

Rauf’s face lit up after he realized that is wasn’t bad news Altair had delivered, but instead a request for help as politely as _Altair_ could possibly ask.

“Sure, you have the test next week, right? I too had to ask an older trainee for help. Say, can you do a somersault? I started there.”

 

* * *

 

Penelope chuckled inside her mind. Altair was still awkward with friendly human interaction that didn’t include Malik. It would do him good to talk a bit with Rauf. In the last few weeks they hadn’t done much beside eating and sleeping together. The current training regime nullified any social interacting by running the boys to the ground until they could do nothing else than fall into bed like a stone at night.

What bothered her was, that Altair smiled less. She would get a small one when he caught his breath and scratched her feathers but his resting face turned from a slight smile more and more towards a frown. It was a sad development – human interaction might put an end to that or at least slow the process down.

It was actually surprising to her that Rauf was on a training path to be a master assassin. He seemed too peaceful for that, but it wasn’t her task to judge who was fit and who was not to walk the most dangerous career path.

Day for day she would watch the two after the morning run. Rauf trying to teach Altair how to do a somersault without aid while standing. They needed until the sunset of the day before the test for Altair to finally master the move. Eventually Rauf’s cheer was heard, downing out Altair’s own little cheer. She let out a happy screech barreling into Altair’s chest for a big hug.

 

* * *

 

It was the highest tower Masayaf had to offer. A lone wooden plank was fixed onto the edge. He had to jump off this thing into a stack of hay - a Leap of Faith. He had to believe that he would land safely. He had to believe that he would do it right.

A wrong move could mean broken bones if not death.

This was the ultimate test Masayaf had to offer. One could redo any other at a later time but this – this was a one-time chance. He had picked the shortest straw and would jump first.

Foot after foot he walked onto the wood. It was one hell of a drop. Beside the haystack stood Al-Mualim and the others who had trained them the weeks beforehand; even Rauf! He looked back and saw the other apprentices watching. Malik was the important one who nodded at him with his lips pressed into a thin line, then mouthed: _you can do it._

Risha’s cry tore his eyes away from his friend to her. She was flying at high speed into his direction.

It was that moment his resolve steeled.

Altair ran the last two steps and jumped as Risha reached his side. His hands flew outward as if he himself had wings and for a little moment he simply flew in the air. Then gravity reached its hands out to him. He pulled his upper body inwards and turned, so his back facing the ground. The drop stole his breath and for a moment Risha’s silhouette blocked the sun. She turned green.

Green!

Before he could think any more about it, he was engulfed in hay. Now his arms waved around like the arms of one drowning. A calloused hand gripped his wrist and pulled him out onto his feet. His sight was taken over by something – someone - shining gold. Nearly hidden underneath the glow, he could make out the outlines of Al-Mualim. Taking a step away from the Mentor, he blinked multiple times to get rid of the strange sight, but it did nothing. His surroundings and most people were grey. Rauf and Mohammed were blue and Al-Mualim was the source of the intense gold.

“Close your eyes.”

At the Mentor’s command Altair closed his eyes and was led away from the group of people. As he was finally allowed to open his eyes again everything was back to normal. Al-Mualim had a strange gleam in his eyes but Altair dismissed it in his own confusion.

“You’re gifted too.”

They were the only words Al-Mualim said before he was gone like a wisp of wind, returning to the others who tried the jump – he had already missed Malik he wouldn’t miss the others; he was the Mentor after all and was supposed to witness everyone’s first flight.

 

* * *

 

At the whistled command, Penelope folded her wings to her body and dropped onto the guard that thought to go unnoticed behind Altair and attack him. He totally didn’t expect that which gave Altair the five seconds he needed to finish him of too.

“Good girl.”

Altair surrounded by a handful of now dead guards offered his arm to her to land on. He had grown into a fine young man. Sure of himself and his actions, unmatched by anyone else his age. He was the first one who got the true bracer with the blade strapped below it, later he switched it, without talking to anyone else, to the Hidden Blade his father had worn. Altair had to cut a bit of the leather away to have it fitting around his arm – much to his displeasure he was a bit shorter than Alab had been. Alab’s belt had been worn for a long time and was too battered be used anymore but Altair reworked the little bit of remaining good leather and two stripes of Alab’s red cloth to make a small bag which Penelope could carry around on her back. By now she knew the whole reigning area of the Assassins and carried back and forth messages for Altair or a few extra throwing knives and some extra things.

Penelope had thought herself to have white feathers before but after she had molted her adult feathers completely for the first time her new set was a truly shining-brightly stark white. When they had to sneak around in the night, she actually rolled in dirt beforehand to not be so noticeable. Like now.

Altair carefully picked a few larger crumbs of dirt out of her feathers and tapped lightly against the metal over her beak. Another one of his inventions: a sharp metal cover for her beak to she could deal even more damage. Her favorite one was the reinforcement for her claw, but Altair hadn’t managed to smith that one yet. It required very small and delicate pieces that had to work perfectly together to not hinder her movement and needed to be strong enough too. So far, no luck.

It was another development Penelope could only huff at. Not that Altair wasn’t great at inventing and building things – quite the opposite but the circumstances weren’t ideal. Al-Mualim picked Altair’s training up personally like he promised Alab but that just meant that Altair trained at quite odd times. It resulted in a lonely Altair because his free-time was barely parallel to the others. He ended up going to Mohammed who spent the lone hours in the smithery and learned under him. It kept him occupied but made Altair even more of an outcast. Still, he flourished so no one complained.

“Silly, you managed to bend your tip. _Again_.”

She trilled an answer and made a nonchalant shrug with her shoulders. They went in comfortable silence to city’s bureau.

The rafiq was quite surprised to see them that early but they were an efficient team, like a machine. She was his lookout and shortened the time by many hours of searching. With his usual swagger Altair placed the roll they were sent to retrieve on the table.

“I am done.”

“I see that. I just got your next instructions. You will ride to Jerusalem and meet up with Malik and Kadar. There you will get your next orders.”

 

* * *

 

With provisions refilled they went on their way to Jerusalem. Wandering around was something they did a lot. Without modern transportation, distances between cities took many hours if not days to travel. Penelope knew how much just an hour had been worth to her – it was the longest of free time she got on a workday. But now, now an hour was worth far less. Everything was much slower and got planned beforehand for weeks.

One thing she loved about travelling was the view. Be it while in flight or perched on Altair’s shoulders – the view was fantastic. Especially when the sun set and gave way to the night sky just like now. An endless sea of stars stretched from one end of the horizon to the other. The milky way clearly visible. She managed to shed a tear of pent up happy emotions despite being in a bird’s body.

At first, they had avoided riding deep into the night – dangerous animals were hard to spot but now they embraced it. The Eagle Vision guided their trail. What she first thought to be a fluke, part of a vivid imagination turned out to be one of their most useful tools that she and Altair possessed. Any danger appeared in bright red and allies in blue; targets got the color gold – very nice to pick out in the black-and-white environment. They saw each other in green but only she saw Malik and Kadar in green too – so it was hard to tell what it really stood for.

Speak of the devil, two green dots appeared on the horizon; the Al-Sayif brothers had taken shelter in a small cave. Quite happily Penelope sank down to fly on Altair’s side on eye-level and gave a chirp to tell him that she was going ahead – and then off she went with _speed_.

After the years she had spent within this body she mastered it to the max. Penelope knew every flight maneuver she could do, how to use winds to fly energy-efficient or how to flap her wings to get to the greatest speed possible. In this time-period she was among the fastest things that existed. The wind tearing at her feathers was the best feeling ever and made her forget more and more that she actually was human.

Human.

Penelope faltered for a moment. She was human not a bird. Human. Human. Human. This body was temporary so maybe – maybe Desmond could have another option to save the word. This was not her time.

Kadar’s careful question got her out of her spiral of thoughts who saw her silhouette.

“Risha?”

She landed beside the boy. Malik was sleeping a bit further inside. Chuckling quietly Kadar pulled her into a deep hug –basically wrapping himself around her. From her three boys he was the true cuddle-addict. While Malik kept her in scratchable distance and Altair sometimes carried her around like someone with his favorite book, Kadar always engulfed her and let go of her only when one of the older two told him to stop.

When the clapping of Altair’s horse got audible, Malik jumped up coiled like a snake ready to strike but relaxed as soon as he saw Kadar cuddling her.

“Leave her room to breathe, ok?”

The little brother nodded while the older eased back down.

“Continue to sleep for a bit Malik, it’s not your turn yet.”

He didn’t answer and just readjusted his blanket. Altair arrived as silent as possible and stood with his own blanket in the entrance.

“It’s my turn Altair, go rest too.”

Altair only nodded and shuffled deeper into the cave. He opened the blanket half over Malik and laid down under it at the brother’s side. It was a peaceful sight.

Penelope wiggled with her wings to get out of Kadar’s grip who let her go reluctantly. Then she pushed her head against his tight to push him into the direction of the two nearly asleep Assassins.

“You sure?”

At her nod he let out a _yay_ and got his own blanket before opening it over the other two and squeezing himself directly between them who grunted in response. Smiling mentally, Penelope flew outside and sat down atop of the cave’s entrance.

 

* * *

 

The night was uneventful save for a small snake that ended up as her midnight snack.

As the first rays of the sun stretched over the land, her boys started to wake. By routine, blankets got stowed away and horses re-saddled. Penelope made herself comfortable on a piece of fur Altair had placed for her between the saddle and the bag mounted behind it. The soft swaying let her fall asleep quickly.

Penelope slept so deeply, she didn’t even notice that they had arrived in Jerusalem and Altair had used the fur to bundle her up and carry her to the bureau. She was nice, warm and had no motivation to give up sleep, but one had to wake eventually.

When she woke, she was greeted by the sight of a sulking Kadar. Still wrapped up like a burrito she laid in his lap and had a perfect view onto the angry furrowed forehead and crossed arms. 

 

* * *

 

His brothers should stop babying him! Yes, he was younger and not as experienced as them but if they continued to protect him constantly, he’ll never grow and stay forever a novice. Forever the laughing stock in his group.

Malik and Altair barely agreed on anything arguing for hours with no peaceful solution in sight but as soon as the question arose if he should help or be involved in any way, they agreed within a few seconds ruling him out with age and rank.

That’s how he ended up in this room. Al-Mualim had send a pigeon to inform the rafiq of a new mission for his brothers but before they knew what it involved, he wasn’t allowed into the meetings.

_We’re responsible for your, so we decide if we can take you with us._

Responsibility his ass. He was just a random shadow as soon as the two caught the scent of the hunt. Malik, a master of anticipation – always standing where he could strike the best, the victim never knowing what hit him – and Altair, a beast. Kadar knew of no other word to describe him. Altair had such a magnificent presence, that the victims got skittish whenever he drew near. They seemed to feel him coming, but they never saw him and when the victim was mentally finished off Altair attacked with only one strike - powerful.

Kadar’s dream was to reach Altair’s level of power. Magnificent. And he was nothing. Just one of many novices trying to follow the Assassin’s path. Sometimes he even got the feeling that Risha was more powerful than him. He only saw her once in a fight, but it was just as impressive as Altair – and the two together were unstoppable. Hell, Risha stopped, if not killed more guards than he did! Stunning them by whacking against their heads letting their helmets ring and then used her claws to reach their throats.

The soft rustling in his lap let him look down. Risha looked up to him with her bright golden eyes and trilled. She was so cute! Unable to stop himself he cuddled her to his chest. It was the scene his brothers walked into.

“Could you release my bird?”

With a blush on his cheeks, he unwrapped Risha and gave her a small boost to jump up on Altair’s arm. Out of a pouch, the Assassin pulled a stripe of meat that she devoured in one large gulp. Malik walked deeper into the room.

“You’ll be waiting until an informant from Acre arrives and had a night’s rest, then you will follow him back to Masayaf. This is not your mission.” His older brother looked at him sternly and crossed his arms. “You won’t follow us.”

Defeated Kadar let out a huff. There was no way of talking Malik out of a decision. Especially if he got that expression on his face, brows drawn together and his mouth a thin line. It had to be an important mission. He battled with himself for a moment if he should ask for a reason why he wasn’t allowed – they had promised to take him with them on a mission in the near future – but both of them seemed to be quite tense. Kadar let any questions fall – at least for now.

 

* * *

 

With practiced ease, Altair opened all the small straps of leather that held everything onto Risha. First off was the beak-reinforcement; it was only slightly bent – he should be able to fixit until tomorrow. Then came the small bag; still empty at the moment. Last came the red cloth off that was below the bag; it had to be washed.

While Risha ate her meal, he started to clean and fix her and his equipment. Sharpening knives, sewing shut holes. Little tasks to help him reboot his mind because sleep wouldn’t. Next point on his mental task-list was the small cleanup of himself, his clothes and Risha. He filled up one of the larger buckets in an extra room and started with a sponge bath, then he washed any cloth that needed it and returned with a soft brush in his temporary room to where his bird was finished eating.

“Come here.”

Risha flew into his arms and settled as a familiar warm weight against him. He was…afraid…to lose her. She had been with him since he was ten, always looking out for him, helping him but just like him, she grew older. Her age was impressive – she was the oldest bird to live in Masayaf but she grew quieter. And even if she still went with him, protecting him with all her might, Malik had pulled him aside and talked with him about the possibility, that she maybe had only about a year left until she got too old, to fragile to follow him. Then he would lose his hunting buddy.

Altair didn’t want to think about it, but Malik had planted that little thought inside his mind, and it scared him. Malik was at least kind enough to not recommend training another bird as long as Risha could help with that. Risha was so much more than a large bird, she was family – irreplaceable.

A small smile tugged at his lips as Risha cooed – she must have noticed that his thoughts turned to a dark place. She always cooed softly to get him out of his thought. He held her out in front of him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Tomorrow they would stake out Solomon’s Temple.

 


	6. I shall name you Risha (5/7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got beta-read by DreamofStories  :)

“KADAR AL-SAYIF!”

The boy ducked his head between his shoulders. Malik was royally pissed. Altair looked grim too, Risha on his shoulder shared his stoic expression.

“I-…I can explain.”

“I sure hope you can!”

With a shaking hand, Kadar reached into his pouch and pulled a scroll out. It had been a long time since he had felt _this_ terrified. This must be what their usual prey felt like under their scrutiny.

“Another pigeon came with further instructions but you two were already gone…so…I volunteered…to bring it to you.”

He flinched as his brother aggressively snatched the message out of his hand. With furrowed brows he read it and passed it wordlessly to Altair to read for himself. Kadar shuffled his feet through the sandy ground. He wanted to join them, that’s why he had said he would carry the message. Step one was a success, now he only had to find a reason why he shouldn’t be sent back.

His brothers did one of their silent discussions, staring at each other and bobbing their heads. It was most curious to watch. One moment the two clawed at their throats, the other they communicated in a way nobody else understood.

Malik sighed loudly and released the tension out of his shoulders.

“Kadar, what is your equipment status?”

“My sword, my throwing…”

Kadar padded at his holster for the throwing knives, it was empty. He had left them on the bureau’s counter. Slowly he reached up and scratched his head in embarrassment while giving his siblings an uncomfortable smile.

“KADAR!”

Malik was done with him. So, so much done. His left brow was twitching, fists clenched tight and just before he exploded, he turned around and walked a few steps away. Kadar knew he had just busted his chance of tagging along.

Altair was a great surprise. He took his spare ones out of Risha’s little backpack and pressed them into his hands.

“We cannot leave you alone; it’s too dangerous.”

Kadar wasn’t sure if that was one of Altair’s snarky-hidden comments because he forgot his equipment or if it was an actual statement.

 

* * *

 

The original mission had been to sneak into the Solomon’s Temple and stake out why a Templar camp was hiding there. Now, with the arrival of the new message they knew it.

Penelope had read it too. Inside, the Templars were searching for an Apple of Eden. From the name she was pretty sure that it was one of the Pieces of Eden the glowing being responsible for her bird-situation had told her about. The goal was to locate it and bring it back to Masayaf.

She wished that she had been more attentive in the history lessons at school. The only thing she could remember now was that there had been the crusades and that they had been a huge religious bloody head-butting… but that helped next to nothing. They were a threat to Masayaf and the surrounding cities – that was why Assassin’s fought against them and so she did too.

The risk of good trained henchman had been high before but with that information – and a possible artifact – there was a chance of _fully_ trained Templars. They were an enemy Kadar was not fit to fight. But, sending him off now, when others could probably arrive, was an even greater risk. They were forced to take the young Al-Sayif with them. Altair tickling her chin brought her out of her musings.

“We need a lookout.”

It was an old tactic, Altair (and whomever he sometimes had to work with) did the mission while she flew over his head, having one eye on his back and the other looking out for possible arriving reinforcements. He gave her a small boost to take off to the sky and disappeared with the other two into the Temple.

Her feathers were itching. For a few minutes, Penelope tried to ignore it but it grew in intensity. She took a last good sweep over the horizon, finding nothing, and landed on the stone entrance. She sighed relieved as she rubbed the itching parts against the stone.

She was about to fly off again as she heard soft clashing. Landing in the entrance instead she perked up her ears. Metal was hitting metal.

Penelope puffed her feathers out unsure how to proceed. On one hand she could help her trio if they were in trouble but couldn’t possibly spot any new arriving enemies. On the other hand, she could continue flying around and spotting any possible enemies but not helping them if they were in trouble inside.

Shocked, she jumped up as the ground started to vibrate and rolling stones rumbled deep in the temple.

They needed help. Now.

As soon as the ground stopped she flew inside as fast as she could – which was not as fast as she liked considering the narrow corridor and her large wingspan.

“Malik!”

Kadar’s ear-piercing cry spurred her faster, letting her wings bump painfully against stones still hanging from the ceiling.

“KADAR!”

While Kadar’s cry had meant trouble, Malik’s cry meant pain. Unbelievable _pain_.

Penelope stopped caring for her own well-being as soon as she saw a knight with a sword raised high before a kneeling Malik. She smacked into him, crashing with an excruciating feeling against the metal armor. The Templar shouted in surprise and let go of his sword as he lost balance…and he let go of a golden glowing ball. It was a slow-motion moment. Penelope fell, seeing Malik’s distraught face and the glowing ball touching the ground just a moment after her. It made a bell-like sound as it crashed and tumbled towards her.

The furthermost feather on her right wing made first contact with it and everything exploded into blinding light. And just as fast as it came… the light was gone.

Every Templar had been smashed against the wall, unmoving. In the middle sat Malik with wide eyes, shining with unshed tears, his arms around his limp brother. Her body felt like one big sore muscle and it took a bit until she had her wings together again and managed to roll on her stomach.

The first tear in Malik’s eyes fell.

From her new position, she saw what Malik’s body had hid from her. Kadar – he was impaled by his own sword. A desperate cry tore from her throat and Malik started to shake. Her legs didn’t work properly but not caring for her feathers caught on the uneven ground she bobbed forward until she bumped against his thigh.

There was no time. It had no meaning.

Malik moved first. Slowly he let go of Kadar and pushed her head softly away so he could stand up. Swaying like a drunk he found stability against the wall. He took a few deep breaths and gripped the sword embedded in his brother. Without looking at it he pulled it out with a jerk and put it still bloody into his sheath. It replaced his own sword – abandoned a few meters away. Mechanically he pulled a piece of cloth out of a pouch and staggered forward to the ball lying innocently on the floor. As Malik tried to squat down his leg gave up and he landed with a thud on the floor. He didn’t even wince.

Penelope chirped and made her own attempt to stand up. It was like learning to walk all over again.

Malik bundled the Apple up in the cloth and came back to her.

Once more he crumbled to the floor, his left arm reaching uselessly as he tried to catch himself. He laid the bundle to the side and reached for her. For a while he just brushed his hand through her feathers while she was resting on her stomach. Then he opened her bag, scratched but still functional, and put the Apple inside.

Malik put his hand on her head and pushed her gently towards the exit.

“M-Masayaf.”

Penelope’s heart broke. Malik sounded so broken. The voice of someone in a desert without water. Everything inside her was numb. She didn’t know what happened but Malik- she knew Malik and he was family. No family was left behind.

She finally stood and turned her head to the hurt Assassin.

“Al-Mualim needs this…whatever it is…go.”

 _No_. Her head was moving left and right.

“ _Fly_ , Risha!”

She froze in her shaking movement.

 _Fly Risha_ , Alab died.

 _Fly Risha_ , Faheem died.

 _Fly Risha_ , Malik…

Penelope screeched loud and angry. Malik wouldn’t die, she wouldn’t let him! They needed to get out, before any more Templars came. Back to Masayaf, before Malik was gone forever. Penelope shouted at herself in her mind. Transport, transport…think! Horse!

They had hidden their horses a bit further out, she’d get one for Malik. It took her a bit of flapping until she was airborne, but she flew. Through the tunnel, out of the entrance to the rock-formation where they had hidden their horses in the shade.

Altair’s horse was gone. It was a mixture between a blessing – Altair was alive – and anger – he left Malik and Kadar. She tugged hard at the horse-knot and the reigns came free. With the reigns in her talons she pulled the brown mare along. The mare took a bit until she understood that she should follow but then did so obediently.

Had someone seen them, it would’ve been a strange sight - a flying eagle pulling a horse along.

The cave was a bit of a struggle. The horse had a few problems due to larger height differences on the ground, slowing them down considerably. That in turn forced her to fly slower and made it even harder for her to maneuver. As she finally arrived at the opening where Malik was left, she dropped the reign and flew down to the edge.

It was a heart-wrenching sight. Kadar laid on the floor with his arms crossed across his chest and his eyes closed. Malik was in the same position directly at his side, his rasping breath being the only thing filling the silence. As she cried out, the barely alive Assassin turned his head to her direction, blinking slowly.

It wasn’t more than a whisper as he called out for her. Pressing into his right side, Penelope sought out comfort, something familiar. His hand was a weight of comfort on her back.

The neighing of the left alone horse brought her thoughts back to the present. Malik needed to get out. Penelope stood up and pushed with her head into his side urging him to move. He didn’t.

Only when her claws made a scraping sound on the floor as she lost her footing from the force of her shove, did Malik move to sit up, letting her tumble onto the ground again.

His brown eyes darted from her to his horse and back again.

“Why didn’t you just fly to Masayaf?”

He sounded so small, it hurt. Trilling softly, she pressed against him again. Finally, _finally_ he moved.

 

* * *

 

Everything and nothing hurt. His left arm was numb, and his emotions were slipping away. Altair had abandoned them. Kadar had tried to save him. A Templar had disarmed his brother and he had jumped into the way to save him injuring his side. Then he had tripped falling onto his left, injured, side and was unable to catch himself so Kadar jumped into the next attack.

And got impaled by his own sword.

Laughing the Templar had thrown Kadar to the side and shocked by the sight Malik had stumbled after him, pulling him into his arms. With Kadar’s last rattling breath, something had died inside him and he was convinced that he would share his fate. Without him, there was nobody waiting for him – he didn’t teach any students. Malik didn’t even look up at Robert de Sable as he swung his sword at him.

A loud cry resonated in the hall, followed by a great bang. It was Risha. Risha had come barreling at high speed against the Templar. It must’ve hurt, like – a lot. Her large white wings were spread on the floor, talons sticking into the air and de Sable lost not only his sword but the artifact too. Huh, he didn’t even notice that he had picked it out of the box.

Then the golden ball rolled against Risha and everything went white.

_._

_“Malik where are you, Malik!”_

_“Please I don’t want to die!”_

_“Malik.”_

_“MALIK!”_

_Malik found himself in a grey area he didn’t know. It was just endless grey without anything to break the plane of nothingness but as he turned around, he saw Kadar. He wore the clothes from the day before he was accepted into the brotherhood: dirty-white shirt and darker trousers. Kadar was younger, still small enough to fit under his armpit._

_And he was crying._

_Many years of brotherly instinct activated, and Malik pulled Kadar into a deep hug._

_“Malik I am so afraid.”_

_He shushed his smaller brother, weaving his fingers calmingly though Kadar’s hair. Malik didn’t even question why he was without any injury because his mind was set on soothing his sibling. An old melody came to his mind and he started to hum, the sound rising from deep within his chest._

_With that Kadar became translucent and Malik fell through him. Surprised he fell to his knees._

_._

Malik was still on the ground beside his dead brother. Risha was still sprawled on the floor. But any Templar that had still been standing had been flung against the walls, all were now unmoving.

What had just happened?

Risha was struggling to stand up. On her stomach, she pushed herself forward until she reached him. Kadar was cold on his left, Risha warm on his right.

Kadar cold.

Dead.

Mission.

Al-Mualim had sent them to get the artifact. He was an Assassin. He had a job to do. Malik’s left hand barely responded but he could wiggle his toes as well as the fingers on his right hand. So, he pushed her softly aside so he wouldn’t crush her if he fell.

Left leg, right leg, up it goes. His head started to spin, and he had to pause to lean against the stone. But… he had a mission. At least one thing to do, to finish. The lines on the so-called Apple were glowing. Malik didn’t want to touch it. Al-Mualim needed to see it. What was that light? He pulled one of the cloth pieces out of his pouch and threw it over it. As he bent his knees to retrieve it he lost muscle control for a moment and hit the floor once more. He was too weak. He wouldn’t be able to finish the mission!

Risha’s feathers were disheveled but she looked fine otherwise. She could finish the mission – take the ball back to Masayaf. Decision made, Malik dragged himself back to her.

Risha had come for them, him, Risha was still a loyal friend. Her golden eyes were fully of worry and he couldn’t stop himself from petting her. It would be the last time. Soft feathers.

The bag the traitor had made for her was still on her back, covered in sand and gravel dust and scratched up but it was still functional. She could carry the Apple. He untangled the cord, opened the flap and placed the Apple inside and did the reverse.

“M-Masayaf.”

Risha must go and deliver it. No Templar could get it, the mission could still be a success.

“Al-Mualim needs this…whatever it is…go.”

Why did she move her head in a no, the mission needed to be finished!

“Fly Risha!”

She froze but then, like fire touching oil, Risha cried out so _angry_. Why?

Her great wings started flapping, whirling up the dirt. The take-off looked exhausting but she managed and flew away. Good girl. At least not everything would fail.

Malik’s remaining energy was dwindling away, but Kadar was still spread out on the ground. With the last of his strength, Malik rearranged his brothers’ body; closing his lifeless eyes, folding his arms ready for his eternal sleep. He would sleep at his side even if his body had already gone cold.

Consciousness flickered in and out. Malik was sure he had reached death as he heard an eagle’s cry, Risha was gone, but he found himself able to open his eyes again and turn his head.

It was Risha. Why was she here? It was impossible for him to be alive if she had made the travel to Masayaf and back. She pressed against him as a comfortable warmth and he put his hands on her to get more of the feeling. The ball was still in the bag… She hadn’t brought it to Masayaf.

There was a horse snickering.

The mission needed to be finished. He wasn’t above the mission. He was an Assassin. He brought death and earned death.

“Why didn’t you just fly to Masayaf?”

The sound of his own voice was pitiful.

The pressure in his side increased. It started to get uncomfortable. The screeching made by talons scratching against stone gave him goosebumps. Risha was giving everything she had to get him moving. She wanted him to move.

With his good arm, he pressed him himself upwards into a sitting position. Everything felt stiff. It made Risha happy. Now he could see the horse standing where the traitor had started the ambush.

“I…will not manage to get up there.”

Risha’ eyes were so expressive: sadness, anger, helplessness. But he witnessed how these golden pools steeled and she flattened her fluffed up feathers.

Malik nearly fell backwards as Risha went around him and jumped onto his back.

The flapping of wings filled his ears. Wind rushing at great speed. It brought tears to his eyes, she didn’t give up on him. He was such a lump of sadness and pity and she still wanted him to go on. Every muscle was shaking, his head felt woozy but… somehow Risha steadied him, taking a bit weight off him so that he wouldn’t topple over.

One step, two steps, foot by foot he moved his feet. Then he reached the ladder, he had successfully moved a few meters. The wood of the ladder was rough against the skin of his right hand. Automatically, he tried to reach up with his left and burning pain shook though his system. Malik barely registered Risha’s squeak as she had to hold up much more weight than expected.

His right hand was fine though – still usable. As he got his bearings back together, he reached higher and put his left feet into the first rung, the right one a step higher. Then arose the problem, one hand less to reach higher and pull himself up.

His throat started aching due to the constant pressure of his shirt against it. Could Risha hold him long enough so he could reach the next rung? What a leap of faith, to trust a bird. He was just above the ground, it shouldn’t hurt too much to fall.

He breathed in and lurched up – catching the next rung – breathing out. Again and again until he reached the top. His mare greeted him with a soft nudge against his chest and he couldn’t help himself but hug her head.

Behind him, Risha let go of his collar and flopped down to the ground, her chest moving up and down quite rapidly. As it was trained to do, the horse went onto her knees so the injured Assassin could mount without having to jump up.

Luckily, they hadn’t de-saddled the horses beforehand – Malik was in no condition to ride bareback.

“Risha…come here.”

The bird got her feet back under her and hobbled over. Ignoring his pain, he reached down to grip the bag and pulled it, bird inclusive, up in front of him – it was the least he could do. With a click of his tongue the horse rose and trotted slowly out of the cave.

The sky was blood-red as they came out of the cave. It was a normal occurrence but now it was even prettier. Such a fresh breath of air opposed to the dank smell of decay in the cave.

First things first: Look after Kadar’s horse. It was still where they had left it. Once more it was Risha who pulled the knot open, but the horse followed him willingly.

Malik, a bird, and two horses started their way back to Masyaf.

Mind dead and body just short of actually dying Malik saw the world around him anew. Enjoying his surroundings. Watching the sun disappear completely behind the horizon, seeing the moon rise with her trail of stars. Malik was tired, wanting to sleep but deep down he knew, if he took more than a nap, then he would have closed his eyes for the last time.

He had to ignore the dangers of the night and trust his animal companions to notice any predators.

Malik’s heart was a black hole of negativity. Kadar was dead and he was in no way capable of bring his body with him to bury. Alone he would’ve died at his side. _Rest in peace my brother._

It felt like a trick of his mind as he saw in the darkness of the night a reddish smudge on the horizon were the small mountains began. As he rode near, he saw the torches of a moving army, de Sables’ men. Had he gotten out? But most importantly: they rode into the direction of Masayaf.

Malik was cursing anything and everything. He stopped his horse and turned slowly to the saddle bag; got out the provisions and a rope. Wolfing down the bread, and giving the meat to Risha afterwards, he drank most of his water supply as he made himself ready to ride hard.

With something in his stomach, life returned to his body along with awareness of his injuries.  – they had to wait – Masayaf was in trouble if it was caught by surprise. Using the rope to secure himself to the saddle by his waist, he dug his heels into the horse’s side, speeding off.

He used the narrow path that trailed above the larger passage through the mountains to get ahead of the army. What a fine steed indeed - all Masayaf horses were strong and well trained, and within reason they even found their way back home.

Malik spaced out completely, he possibly even fell unconscious. As hands gripped him he was startled awake and started thrashing.

“Safety and peace, brother.”

Masayaf’s gate. He was home. The horse below him was trembling, Risha was out cold. The two entrance guards were helping him down.

Their mission was nearly finished.

Held up by his two brothers he reached to Risha and got the packed-up ball out with shaking hands. _Easy, easy_ sounded dull in his ear. Nothing is easy.

More brothers arrived.

“T-take care…of them. Need…Al-Mualim.”

The one to his left answered him, he was the calmest and oldest currently present.

“We will, we will, but you need to go to get your wounds checked.”

“Yes, NO…Al-Mualim, Al-Mualim needs to know what happened.”

A flask of water was put against his lips and he drank. It soothed his dry throat. The guard ordered someone to get one of the fresh horses. This too went on his knees so Malik could get placed on it. After it stood up, the guard mounted behind him.

Normally there was a no-riding policy in Masayaf, but the guard must have understood the urgency. To carry him would’ve taken too long, especially up the hill. The eyes of the villagers followed them, but it was unimportant.

He chose not to hear Rauf’s question regarding Kadar’s whereabouts.

They dismounted at the large staircase in front of the castle, questioning and sorrowful gazes left and right. In the main hall he could hear Altair’s voice. Traitor.

With his last energy reserves, he left the guard’s side, walking with his head held high up the stairs.

The traitor’s slack jaw was a sight to behold.

"I brought what your favorite failed to find. Here! Take it. Though it seems I've returned with more than just their treasure."

Al-Mualim took the wrapped-up Apple out of his hand and listened intently as he told of the coming army. Malik was dismissed not a moment too soon, his feet touched the last step of the main hall’s staircase as he blacked out.

 

* * *

 

It was shouting that woke Penelope. Extremely hurt and loud shouting. She was laying on a small mountain of hay collected on a white linen. It had been draped over a table in one of Masayaf’s book-filled rooms. The familiar flag hung on the walls. Beside her was a bowl of water and meat strips.

With an aching body like hers she wouldn’t have moved at all if she wasn’t this famished. But the shouting did not stop. Who was it? It wasn’t an attack, otherwise there would be the ringing of steel and shouting of orders.

For the first time in a long time, she walked from one room to the other. The noise led her to the area in the castle intended for the sick and injured. A guard was stationed in front of the door the noise originated from. A scholar, the one teaching the children to write, had been talking with him but called out as soon as he saw her.

“Ba careful, this is Risha. Don’t let her into the room. She is overly protective of Ibn-la’Ahad and Al-Sayif. Got the tendency to attack anyone if one of them is threatened.”

The guard raised his eyebrow, not totally sure how a bird could be a true threat but like everyone, he had heard the tales of the Great White Eagle. Risha fluffed up her feathers as best she could - after that statement she definitely wanted into that room; were her boys alright?

Before Penelope could do anything more the door of the room was thrown open and Altair stormed out. His eyes fell on her, unusually shiny, and he quickly came to her. Without a word she got picked up and carried away. Altair stormed to their room. As a Master Assassin, he got his own room in the largest tower without an annoying Abbas in the vicinity.

Penelope got placed onto the small desk and Altair started to examine her after taking off the equipment she had still been carrying. A few times she clicked with her beak when he pressed into an especially sore area, but nothing seemed to be wrong otherwise. Carefully he got bigger dirt lumps out and straightened a few wild feathers. An astonished grunt was the first sound he made as he plucked one of the small down feathers out and held it into the sunlight. It was golden, not just children’s-pen golden, it was _golden_ golden. After this discovery he took a closer look at the small downs – every odd one was at least partially golden as if they had been dipped in a vat of molten gold.

When there was nothing more to be cleaned Altair pulled her into his arms and moved onto the bed. Penelope was nearly asleep as he started talking.

“Thank you for coming back, for helping Malik…I got demoted. Novice again. Al-Mualim forbade me from taking you with me for my next mission.”

That got her attention. They were a team! Chuckling darkly, he brushed though her feathers.

“Could you do something for me…? They took off Maliks left arm, the wound was left too long untreated to have any chance of being healed again.”

Penelope tensed. Malik with only one arm, that was definitely an end for his Assassin career.

“Help him please. I am the last person he wants to see and he is in need of somebody watching over him.”

Without even waiting for a reaction from her he went to the window and held her outside.

“Fly Risha.”

 


	7. I shall name you Risha (6/7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyho, I'm finally uploading the next chap.  
> This did not went though my beta-reader or rather is still going through her so there is a higher posibility for mistakes. Didn't want to let you wait any longer.

Her world had shattered in a million pieces. Kadar was dead, Altair was off hunting who-knows-whom to get his title back and Malik lost his arm. She was so _tired_.

Penelope was currently nestled against Malik’s armless side, looking into shiny brown eyes. After a very long week he was finally able to keep his eyes open more than a few minutes and sit up on his own.

Someone nocked softly against the door but strode in without waiting for an answer. It was Al-Mualim. The Mentor had the beginning of rings under his eyes; ever since the attack on the castle he had been barely seen around by the people of the Brotherhood let alone the citizens of Masayaf.

The other person in the room – she hadn’t bothered to learn his name – who was responsible for monitoring Malik got him a chair to sit upon and left the room.

Silence stretched between them, only the far away sounds of the training rink audible. Malik tensed further and further until he breathed out _Mentor_.

“You can probably guess why I am here Malik. With only one arm you cannot be an Assassin anymore.”

A tremor shook through the body at her side.

“But you’ve been one of our brightest students. Even if your body can’t follow anymore your mind remembers – it would be a waste of talent to release you from servitude. I have an idea – you’ll think about it and give me an answer if you’re feeling better.”

Al-Mualim made a pause, waiting for a nod from Malik before he continued.

“Jerusalem’s Rafiq had been requesting a replacement for months, I want you to relieve him.”

With that the old man patted Malik’s leg and was gone in his slow walk just as he had entered. Penelope found him strange, but this was a thought for another day – Malik needed her. He had tears in his eyes and tried to reach her with his good arm. Mindful of her talons she moved onto his chest and snuggled her head against his neck. He released a shaky breath and moved his hand though her feathers. It must be such an relieve for him to be kept within the brotherhood and in such a good position too! Rafiqs were Al-Mualim’s representatives outside of Masayaf. Even Master Assassins could only question their orders but not deny them without repercussion.

But for that to happen Malik needed to get up as soon as possible and currently that meant to be well fed and rested. He seemed contend at the moment so she didn’t dare to move – they could always eat later.

 

* * *

 

“Slowly now.”

Under the watchful gaze of his caretaker Malik sat up in his bed and turned the side so his feet touched the floor. His whole left side was aching but that shouldn’t stop him, he would use the time period wisely when his non-existing arm was not hurting too much.

Using his good arm, he pushed up too fast and fell nearly over. It felt a bit like standing on a ship – he had been once on one to get a feeling for it in Acre. It was important that he got up again. He didn’t want to become weaker and even more useless than he already was.

Stubbornly he pushed his helper aside and focused on his feet. Malik was nearly at the door as his foot got caught by the edge of the carpet. By instinct he caught himself with his other foot, but his gravity-center was off balance. He was lucky enough that he managed to turn his body in such a way that he landed on his butt and not on his armless side. He could feel the surge of pain wandering through his whole body.

With a _thud_ something landed in front of him. Risha had dropped an empty shoulder holster for throwing knives at his feet. It was intended to go over the left shoulder.

He rose his eyebrow at her, not understanding what she wanted from him. She fluffed her feathers up and pushed the leather further into his direction.

“You want me to…wear…this.”

The birds head bobbed up and down. What benefit could it be for him to have it empty? He would humor her, she had good ideas – sometimes. Malik would never trust her again with a brush dipped in ink.

Setting the big padding onto his shoulder was easy enough. (Deep down it was strangely satisfying that the straps hit his caretaker as he scrambled to help him; he wants to at least _try_ to do things on his own; thank you very much) the clasp was much more of a struggle. In the end Risha held onto one end while he thread the leather through and pulled it taut.

Somewhere in the background his caretaker had let out a huff and disappeared miffed about being ignored and pushed away over Risha. Malik didn’t care. As soon as he was back on his feet Risha flapped up and sat down on the padding. It created an uncomfortable pressure and he was just short of telling her to go down again as it made click in his head as he staggered a bit forward. She helped him to keep his balance. Risha played the weight of his missing arm.

It felt like a victory. With her on his shoulder he managed to walk into the mess hall – on his own feet without anyone else helping – and could join his brothers for dinner. As he walked through the door only a few of the younger ones stared at his direction, a relieve to be honest.

The whole space on the bench to Rauf’s left was free. Malik steeled himself for any potential question with a deep breath and sat down beside the fellow Assassin ushering Risha off his shoulder to his side, happy to be rid of the extra pressure. Rauf was smiling at him and boxed friendly into his shoulder.

“It’s good to see you up and running brother.”

“What did I miss?”

Always ask questions if you don’t want to be asked one.

“I am now training the new novices. Five hyperactive little rascals, always asking when they get their first sword…”

Rauf continued to talk about his trainees – he looked happier than ever. He mentioned not once Kadar or the traitor and he was grateful for that, Malik didn’t want to think about them. How his brother would never again try to sneak after him trying to surprise him…

Risha pocked his tight. Seated on the bench she could barely place her beak onto the table, let alone eat something off it. Her eyes fixated on the meat. His lips twitched upward – currently she seemed to be always hungry. He turned to grab the empty plate that was placed in front of her and could barely contain the hiss as he felt the pull of his skin at his bandaged wound. Not wanting to succumb to his pain Malik continued with only a twitch of a brow and placed some meat onto the plate before handing it to Risha onto the bench.

His pride would never allow it, but he was thankful that Rauf, without making a big deal out of it, pulled the various filled bowls and plates he wanted further into his direction – making them easier to reach without having to lean far over the table.

Malik was so exhausted that he barely reached his room; he was out in a second.

 

* * *

 

With one last glance at the grand Masayaf Castle Malik mounted his horse – it was the same mare that had carried him from Solomon’s Temple a bit over a month before. Two Informants would accompany him to his new destination; Risha would too. A truly precious bird, helping wherever she could even if only a handful of people trust in her intelligence.

Ever since he was walking again, she especially helped in the balance and mental department; kept him on his toes so the shadows of his brother’s death wouldn’t overwhelm him in the dark. They were there – probably will never be gone – but they shan’t take him by surprise. His memory granting Kadar his own eternal live.

~*~

“Now boy, this is your responsibility.”

The old Rafiq patted against Malik’s back. He had his bags packed and was ready to leave the Brotherhood for a few last years away from secrecy and assassinations.

“Safety and peace brother.”

“You’ll need it more than me.”

With that, the Rafiq left through the door and Malik had officially taken his place. On the table was a list of things he had to do categorized in daily, weekly and things he had to keep an eye out.

It wasn’t required of him to prepare meals, but he had to keep the pantry stocked so his brothers could serve themselves.

The bureau was disguised as a map shop – he had to keep it up. Meaning that he had to make errand runs for materials too.

And every odd brother would arrive hurt – check that always enough bandages, ointments and whatnot were available.

And he had to clean the bureau. Due to his age the old rafiq had only been able to do it superficial. _Yay_ – not.

~*~

“There is one behind the vase.”

Risha chirped an answer and fell onto the small shadow, Malik barely caught the large vase before it fell over.  
The Big Bureau Cleanout started with getting all the cobwebs out in all the corners they could find – they even roped a few visiting trainees in for the task. In a particular dark corner hidden behind a pile of rolled up mats they found a nest of rats – and they were hunting those currently.

“You think we’ve caught them all?”

Something squeaked behind him.

“Dammit!”

~*~

Shivering in pain Malik laid on his pile of pillows. Especially at night phantom pains in his left arm would haunt him.

It hurt so, _so_ much.

He questioned his sanity why he even continued. A live constant in pain, crippled. Was this a life worth living?

Risha was nestled against his head thrilling softly. Malik didn’t dare to take her into his arms – afraid to crush her when a new wave of burning hot pain seared through his side.

~*~

Cautious Malik rolled his wrist, getting a feel for the sword in his hand. It had been a long time since he tried it.

It felt stiff at first but more and more fluent with each movement he fell into the all-familiar rhythm of the sword. He had to move a bit differently to compensate for his lost arm but it felt nice – like being himself again.

Kadar did not pick up a sword to join him.  
There was no Kadar.

~*~

Malik leaned against the doorway, watching the visiting Rauf with not only his group of trainees but others as well eating dinner together and having a good time goofing around – it was a small field-trip. Risha got fed left and right, seemingly everyone tried to pet her. Many were mesmerized not only by the pure white feathers but also by her now golden tummy.

He caught the conversation between two, one nearly ready for his Leap of Faith and the other a complete newbie.

“You have to try the soup! Rafiq Malik is an awesome cook!”

The newbie had spotted him and looked at him with wide eyes, the older one followed his gaze. And turned red, scratching embarrassed his head.

“…it’s the truth.”

Malik gave them a small smile.

~*~

For some reason his newly arriving brothers kept congratulating Malik and he didn’t know why. After the fifth he stopped the Assassin before he went on his merry way.

“Why do you congratulate me? I have done nothing out of the ordinary.”

“You don’t know? Really?! You’ve got promoted Dai.”

The disheveled pigeon carrying this particular message arrived in the evening of the following day.

 

* * *

 

His backside was aching. He had been riding much and fast in the last few weeks. Every new answer he found just revealed more questions. Al-Mualim’s cryptic words didn’t help either.

Altair’s next target was a slaver. There was barely anything more rotten than a slave trader. This one went by the name of Talal.

Unsure he looked onto the familiar Assassin insignia on the roof. He didn’t want to have a confrontation with Malik. He had done enough damage as is was, but he wanted his best friend back too.  
Within his mind he wasn’t sure if he meant Risha or Malik.

Would he still be a Master Assassin he probably wouldn’t even consult the bureau before snatching some of the Informants and simply did his job. But he wasn’t a Master Assassin, so he had to do it like everyone else.

And that meant going into the bureau and talk to the Rafiq – no, no the _Dai_ , Malik had gotten a worthy title.

From what he could see Malik had tidied up the place nicely. The small fountain was running smoothly and was not only a small drizzle, the various carpets had their original bright color back and a new mountain of cushions was placed too in the open part of the bureau.

Taking a heart, he stepped through the threshold and was greeted by the sight of Malik bend over a map, his feathered pen moving over the papyrus. Risha sat beside him well groomed, the few golden feathers he had first found had multiplied and now her whole tummy and the tips of her wings had that mesmerizing color.

“Safety and peace brother.”

Gold and brown eyes snapped up to him. One was clearly happy to see him, the other – not so much.

“Your presence deprives me of both.”

The words hurt more that he anticipated. With only the minimum of words he discussed his mission and was quick out of the door as Malik dismissed him with even more hurtful words.

Altair’s information finding task would start with the first morning light but right now, he wanted to be gone as far as possible from his brother.

For a moment he waited in the shade until the guard had passed then he gripped onto the sun-warm stone and pulled himself upwards. Right hand, left foot, left hand, right foot: repeat. Both hands grabbed tightly the upper part of a window frame and stemmed his feet against windowsill. Altair breathed in and jumped up. For a moment he touched nothing of the tower completely free but as every jump it wouldn’t last. It would be nice to be a bird; he could fly and better understand Risha.

Before gravity pulled him back down again his fingers caught the edge of the balcony and his way up continued until he reached the wooden plank normally reserved for birds.

Up here he could look over large parts of the city and everything seemed so small. Various birds were chirping, thrilling, screeching their tunes but there was one…he would always recognize it. With barely enough time to open his arms Risha flew against his chest.

He had missed her. Without her everything to so _long_ and was pretty lonely. And there was no one to watch his six. After the last assassination he had to fix the clothes on his back and a few shallow cuts on his skin because some swords came too close.

Altair just held his friend in the light of the setting sun.

From below a peaceful melody of a flute was softly heard. Carefully Risha entangled from his hold and stood in front of him. With the beat of the music she opened her wings to their impressive span. Right on the edge she started turning around and around and around trilling happily.

One misstep and she fell over the edge. Startled Altair darted forward but with the _thud_ created by something hitting hay he let out a relieved breath – Risha had fallen into a haycart and now poking her head out looking up to him.

 

* * *

 

Penelope was ranting in her mind. Altair and Malik were such _IDIOTS_. They were hurting but instead of helping each other wrapping their wounds they kept tearing them open over and over. Malik was missing company; Altair was missing company. The answer should be so easy but no, they made their lives harder than they had to be.

Only with a lot of cloth-pulling and nudging Altair finally budged and retreated into the bureau for the night. The two peacocks didn’t acknowledge each other as one went into his room and the other to the pile of pillows – Altair didn’t want to ask which rooms were already occupied.

Penelope slept beside Altair this night. but she knew Malik would be awake like clockwork because a new nightmare woke him. And it did.

The moon in combination with the half-roof wood structure made a giant tic-tac-toe pattern on the floor and walls as Malik emerged from his room. Penelope had been awake the whole time, restless, because she wanted to help them. She only moved her head to indicate that she had seen the Dai and he dipped his head in return.

As always Malik made himself something to drink and turned to walk back into his room, but he hesitated. His gaze wandered to the sleeping Altair. With a huff Malik went and appeared again with a blanket.

His eyes shone with unspoken sadness and loss and it made it hard for her not to do or trill something, but he understood – always watchful Malik understood – and patted her head with a grateful smile tugging at his lips.

The blanket was opened over her and Altair and Malik walked away. Would he have turned he would’ve seen that not only one golden pair of eyes was watching him but also one in honey-brown.

 

~*~

Penelope saw Altair only for a goodbye after he had finished his mission. It had taken weeks before she saw him again, back with another.

Once more the greeting wasn’t the friendlies but there were no direct insults thrown around this time. Malik must’ve seen too the disheveled state Altair was in. He had most of his equipment back, but his hair was longer that normally and there was a slight stubble in his face – Altair always made sure to shave regularly. He had tried to grow a beard once – ugly didn’t come even remotely close to describe it.

Altair had lost his presence too. There was nothing left of the hunter he had been. He picked her up, got something to eat and just sat on a pillow in a dark corner watching the normal day unfold. Civilians thinking the bureau a map shop came and went as well as some Informants, Informant Trainees and an Assassin that came in for a break before continuing on to Masayaf. As the sun was at its highest point he stood up and walked to the counter to place her down again and started with his mission.

Penelope could feel the tension between them. Ok, not only between them but in general. The city was one the edge grating at the nerves of every member in the Brotherhood, making them more twitchy, prone to drawing their weapons at the smallest disturbance and right in the middle of it where her two idiots. Around those two something big would go down soon. She felt it. They would need each other. But how could she help them if they did not even one step towards each other?

Like if Malik heard her thoughts, he nudged her in Altair’s direction. Him and her looking confused into the direction of the Dai.

“A brother of ours got caught. He’ll be at the execution. You keep an eye out for him and make sure Risha gets him free, understood?”

“Yes sir.”

Altair’s _thank you_ was inaudible, but his eyes spoke for him.

Penelope was happy…but also a bit confused. Who was it she should rescue?

 

* * *

 

Malik could stop his resigned huff. That man and his bird. Just as comfortable it is to have Risha around he had to face the truth that she was and always would be Altair’s bird.

He missed the old days when Altair came running because he and Risha had found something new eyes shining bright, his mind open for any and everything. When did it all stop? When was Altair’s inner eagle caged?

Al-Mualim.

Al-Mualim had singled him out! It must’ve been him to press a bright boy’s mind into a small box. But why, why would Al-Mualim do it? What had Altair what nobody else could do. Because he is a natural would be a too small reason for such an intelligent mind as Al-Mualim. Malik knew he was one of the best – if this had been the reason he should’ve been isolated too. Or was Altair just unlucky to be the chosen one?

Something was amiss.

Malik had to wait only a bit longer until he could close the shop part and started to search through old letters and log-books, anything he could get his hands on that had potential clues but no such luck.

Jerusalem’s warning bells tore him out of his concentration. The novice could do nothing discreet. But had it even been possible with the hanging being a public event? Thoughts for later, for now he had to prepare for an undernourished maybe even seriously injured brother and anyone of those who helped in the rescue that got hurt.

Just as he had a mattress prepared and the box with the medical utensils out Altair came through the roof opening, carrying the injured brother. Much to his relieve and his brother’s luck the worst wounds were the chafing from the rope on the wrist and ankles and the red welts of a whip – but none of those open. The main problem was the undernourishment, but he would prepare a broth and would look after him for maybe a few weeks, but he should have no lasting issues. Altair had only a few scrapes that needed cleaning to not become infected but nothing serious.

One after another the other brothers started coming in, the worst injury being a sprained arm because of a wrong fall.

Malik made sure that anyone was taking care of and prepared dinner for everyone. He had to improvise sometimes so that round things didn’t roll off the chopping board, but he managed it and liked it. Cooking had a meditating quality sometimes.  
As it was finished, he carried a tray with steaming bowls out and passed it to his fellow brothers. They were all huddled together around the previously captured one making sure he wasn’t alone.

The worst part of being caged was being alone – that was at least something everyone said who had gone through a capture.

And Altair was alone in the corner, Risha in his lap. He didn’t even look up as Malik approached.

“It’s done. Majd Addin is dead.”

Altair pulled out the bloodied feather.

“Good.”

Not standing the silence, Malik turned around and went back to his counter to bring the last documents he had out back in order. He must have fallen asleep where he sat because it was dark outside as something woke him, the moon being the only source of light.

Altair had put a blanket around his shoulders.

 

* * *

 

With the departure of Altair Malik continued his search for information and clues regarding Al-Mualim. It was a quite fruitless effort that was hard to keep hidden. Malik needed to know his suspicions to be wrong to be able to sleep again on the other hand he didn’t want to agitate his brothers without solid proof. A foul play from Al-Mualim would rattle the Order in its foundation.

Destabilizing the Brotherhood was the last thing he wanted to do.

_Never compromise the Brotherhood._

But that meant if there was something compromising it had to be dealt with.

“What got you this riled up Dai.”

His muscles tensed. Malik hadn’t been aware of an Informants arrival. As the good girl that she was Risha shoved the personal correspondence between the last rafiq and Al-Mualim under her belly hiding it from view.

Forcing a relaxed posture Malik turned around and faced the other. What could he tell? He never wanted to lie to a brother. And it was especially foolish to try to trick one of the seniors.

“…a lot of things. The city is restive, my side is aching and some things in the bookkeeping are incomplete or at least in places I haven’t found so far.”

The man gave him a gentle smile.

“You work so hard for us. Maybe rest a bit?”

“I will…when I am done here. When you can wait a bit, I’ll prepare something to eat.”

“You’re spoiling us Dai.”

With that, the man turned away and Malik let out a relieved breath. That had been close. He had to be more careful in the future.

~*~

With each passing day Malik’s restlessness grew. Some of the rolls had small hints at _something_ but none so far had real evidence.

Thankfully it was a slow day in the shop, so he had the time to flop down on the pillow-mountain and take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had to calm down, being stressed-out could only work so long as an excuse.

“Dai?”

The previously captured Informant Ali poked his head out of the doorway leading into the Brotherhood part of the shop. He was a bit pale around the nose and still a bit weak in the knees, but he was moving around unassisted.

“What can I do for you?”

Ali was hesitating, looking everywhere but not at him. With a raised eyebrow Malik shuffled a bit to the side and patted the place beside him.

“What is it?”

Only after another insisted pat on the cushion Ali came to him and sat down, wringing his hands nervously.

“I-The others…they say you’re stressed, struggling to compensate for your lost limb but- but…,” Ali made a pause, reluctant to continue “I don’t think it’s that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was longer here, I had time to…observe…you. When I see you, you don’t struggle – not that’s easy for you! But you manage. Something else is bothering you.”

By now Malik felt uncomfortable in his skin. What should he tell? Before he could answer Ali continued:

“You’re going through old messages, records. Dai…what have you found? ...I could help? Information are my specialty.”

Malik would go as close as possible to the truth. Secrets were none should be could only come back to haunt him later.

“I am unsure if I … _found_ … anything. That’s why I am searching. Until I have more, I like to keep quiet about it.”

“But you will tell if you found something? We are all brothers here. We are all family.”

_Kadar – brother – family_. The thought hurt, aching deep in his chest.

“I will.”

Sensing the clear dismissal, Ali stood up and left. Malik had to find something – as soon as possible before anything derailed.

~*~

“Dammit!”

Once again Malik swept something off the counter with his elbow – this time luckily only a small and _empty_ ink-pot. It didn’t shatter into too many parts either. They were large enough to be picked up one by one. Only one had gone below the counter.

On his knees Malik carefully grabbed below it. Stone floor, stone floor, paper, stone floor. Wait. Paper? He caught it between his fingers and pulled it out. It was a message and a large one too. Unrolling it he found the unmistakable handwriting of Al-Mualim.

Altair’s name caught his eye. Over and over he read it, but sense made it only little.

_[…] Altair is the first student since his fathers awakening to show the traits of the Eagle Vision. […]_

Eagle Vision?

It sounded like some fairy-tale power. The ability to discern between friend and foe with just a blink of an eye. Malik was unsure what to believe. On one hand it seemed impossible on the other…it sounded crazy enough to be actually true and it would explain Altair’s uncanny ability to spot important things in an instant.

The explosion in Solomon’s Temple came into his mind – another otherworldly thing. He had kept it far away from his thoughts especially the vision of his panicking brother even if his body was already cold against the floor.

_[…] After his first mission he came to me, confused – he had spoken with his target for a few minutes even if its body was already struck down in a space beyond reality. The information he had extracted in that time had proven to be correct. There seems to be more to the Eagle Vision than we currently know. […]_

Talking with the dead?

A shiver ran down his spine. Was he too…? It cooed above him. Tilting his head, he came face to face with Risha’s questioning gaze, two deep pools of molten gold.

The hue of the world around him tilted until everything was black and white. Risha was a gentle source of green.

Malik pulled himself up at the counter’s edge and blinked rapidly to get rid of the strange sight. It didn’t fade. Most disorienting was the muffled sound. With each passing second his movements grew more sluggish and he slowly tilted to his side losing his balance.

The uppermost corner of the shelf was golden, but before he had a chance to even think about it, hands pulled at his body and his vision was filled with blue before fading to an unconscious black.

~*~

Malik awoke to quiet murmuring and rustling.  
He was laying in a bed wrapped up in a thin blanket like a mummy. After a bit of orienting he came to the conclusion that he was in one of the spare rooms of the shop, early evening by the amount of light that came through the small window. Freeing himself he went after the sound.

In the kitchen area Ali and some other of various rank tried to cook together under the scrutiny of Risha. It warmed his heart and a small smile tugged at his lips.

“You know that you have to chop the vegetables in even pieces if you want them to be done at the same time.”

A chorus of _Dai_ greeted him – a very bold trainee even hugged him. Malik just froze.

“Don’t scare us like that!”

Before he had a chance to utter a word he got pulled over onto a stool and had to wait there – they would cook for him today. He wasn’t even allowed to raise one single finger, they even shushed him as he tried to help verbally. A reason why some things were slightly overcooked if not slightly singed.

But it was…fun. Made the rest of the evening very pleasant.

 

* * *

 

Altair was unsure what to believe in anymore. His head was swimming with information, theories and possibilities that his head felt as it would explode any moment now.

He didn’t want to admit it, but his heart was thumping heavily in his chest as he approached the familiar roof in Jerusalem.

How would Malik greet him today?

“Do you want to stay up there all night, or do you join us for dinner?”

Altair had been so engrossed in his brain that he didn’t notice Malik standing in the doorway with Risha happily chirping away on his shoulder.

He had been greeted friendly.

He only nodded and joined Malik at his side as he went on his way to the others already eating. The atmosphere was…careless. Not careless as in not looking, unmindful of the ones around but in not caring what happened tomorrow, for once not weighted down by the unknown danger-filled future.

Malik had truly made a small oasis, a save heaven for the Brotherhood away from home.

But was it truly away from home?  
It was another home.

As the last ones retreated into their respective rooms for the night Altair cautiously walked up to Malik’s counter. There had been no snarky remarks, no stabs at his pride or the former loss of rank – not only from Malik but everyone had been at least respectful while talking with him.

“Dai, my next target is Robert de Sable.”

“ _Dai…_ really Altair?! _Now_ you’re using rank?”

Altair had to look away from the brown eyes drilling into him in the shine of the candle. He didn’t know if Malik had heard the _your have truly earned your rank_ that he mumbled in his collar. He made at least no move to acknowledge it.

The Dai let out a huff.

“Go search in the morning for information in the middle district. Now, sleep. As does everyone, in a room. The second to the left is still empty.”

“Thank you.”

.

.

.

.

“Why are you still standing there?”

Why indeed? Freed from a spell he didn’t realize he was under Altair walked past his brother deeper into the bureau, sleeping well for the first time in weeks in a bed with his bird in his arms.

 

* * *

 

Penelope had watched Malik now for long enough to notice that he had an idea he was unsure to execute. He was always so thoughtful which made him highly efficient, but it slowed him down sometimes too – like now. Wouldn’t she be needed here, Penelope would’ve already flown to Masayaf and sneaked after Al-Mualim to get the info they wanted.

The message concerning the Eagle Vision was tugged away in her nest. A small rug that had been placed up high in the shop-part for her to perch on during the day away from any eyes. From there she had a good look at anyone entering and leaving the shop – effectively stopping a few thieves too; not that Malik wasn’t good enough to do it himself. Or the brothers hiding in the back just a call away.

For now, she had to nudge Malik into action – he was rarely wrong about something. As a human she hadn’t been overly expressive with her body-language, now she had to be. Wing flaring, screeching, head-tilting all the way. It was frustrating to be unable to talk with people. For questioning she landed close to whomever – in this case Malik – she wanted to communicate with, pulled the wings to her body and tilted her head far to the side with a mixture of soft cooing and trilling.

“What do you think about the Eagle Vision?”

In her opinion-

“Could it be that I have it too?”

Another drawback of a talking-inability. People just continued to talk, and one had no chance of interrupting them or keep them from interrupting you. The only thing she could do was catch the sleeve of Malik’s coat and pull to get him moving.

The Dai sighed, as he did quite often, and turned away from the counter to the shelf behind it. For a few seconds she watched him stretching as far as he could to reach the uppermost board on which a thick roll was placed but she decided to ease his small struggle and heaved herself up to shove it down.

Malik was unable to caught is with his hand but managed well enough with his armpit.

The roll was so stuffed that Malik had to cut the cord holding everything together and it was a mini explosion of papers of various size, intent and age.

One of the folded ones had still an intact seal. Where had she seen it before? Penelope wracked her brain over it. There were only a handful of messages she had transported that were sealed. Most had been correspondence from Altair’s targets she had flown to Masayaf for a few days of extra planning time because she arrived faster that Altair ever could.

The seal had a strange shade of red, but wait... Penelope took it and flipped it around: there were faint fingerprints and a few dark sprinkles. Old _blood_ sprinkles.

The revelation floored her and seemingly increased the pressure on her tenfold.

It was the message Faheem had retrieved.

Somehow it found its way into this clusterfuck of paper.

Malik had noticed her freezing and picked the message up himself.

The seal was easily broken, brown eyes speeding over the paper and with each line the Dai’s body grew more tense. In the end he was clutching the paper so hard it started to wrinkle.

He must’ve found something because he was cursing loundly.

 

* * *

 

“It was a woman!”

Altair’s hands made a slapping sound as they hit the bureau’s counter, letting the papermountain scatter further and throwing Malik out of his own musings.

“What?”

Malik had totally not expected the outburst.

“Robert de Sable had a decoy. A woman! He sent a woman to fight in his stead.”

“Where is de Sable now?”

Asking the truly important questions Malik tried to calm Altair down. He reacted to it and took a deep breath, collecting himself again.

“Arsuf. He wants initiate an attack on the Brotherhood, uniting the Saracen and Crusaders.”

Now even more worried Malik stemmed his own hand against the counter opposite of Altair.

“How?”

“My targets, they had affiliations with each fraction. It’s his argument to rally against us, we’re an enemy to everyone.”

“You have to ride for Masayaf immediately, make sure de Sable cannot harm another brother of ours.”

Altair clearly wanted to say something but bit it down, nodding. Within a few minutes his provisions were refilled and he out of the roof, Risha hot on his heels. For the first time since a long time she too was armed again.

A few hours outside Jerusalem Altair came to a stop, offering his arm for Risha to land on.

“There is no time to ride for Masayaf, I’ll be going directly to Arsuf. Take that to Malik.”

It was a message containing this exact information. Risha was clearly hesitant to leave him and he was strangely grateful for that. It was endearing. But after a last hug and an insistent half-punch movement with his arm she circled once over his head and was off back into the direction of Jerusalem.

 

* * *

 

The bureau was one big chaos, shadows from the candlelight danced over the thrown around paper and the Informants, Assassins and Trainees alike could only watch as Malik shuffled through them with enormous speed. Ali was brave enough to raise his voice:

“What’s happening Dai?”

“What do you know about the Solomon mission?”

“You were sent to retrieve something. A golden ball thing, right?”

Malik picked one paper out and laid it onto the only sorted pile on the counter before continuing.

“Yes, an artifact that should not fall into Templar hands. Ten people knew the location in the Solomon Temple. Guess who had nine targets?”

“Altair! But…who is the tenth- Al-Mualim?! But isn’t it a good thing?”

“Not if he is just as greedy as a Templar.”

A shocked _what_ went through the whole group. Finding the last piece he wanted, the Dai motioned everyone to huddle around the counter. Everything unnecessary was swept down and the remaining papers spread for everyone to see.

“You see, the artifact gives power to the wielder. Power to conquer, to control – Templar ideals. Al-Mualim is searching for them since a long time. He must’ve collaborated with the Templars to reach his goal and needed everyone who knew to disappear afterwards. He had his hand over Altair since he was a child – letting him imprint on him, he would never question his orders and would do everything just to please him. We didn’t care for the outsider bird-child. But he made a mistake. Al-Mualim let Altair realize that there is more and gave him not enough to satisfy his curiosity. He started questioning the orders he was given, sadly a tad bit to late. But the targets he had; people of high power were in all fractions that could possibly rally against Masayaf. De Sable was able to flee and will now try to get everyone marching against our home. We have to stop it.”

“I don’t understand how Al-Mualim stands in all of this.”

Malik guided them through the letters. In everyone was spoken of power and control in some way or the other, using Altair as his personal hidden blade. The last one he presented was the one Faheem had found. A direct correspondence between Al-Mualim and de Sable, the Templar Grand Master had asked if the Assassins were ready to be used in a war against their own home country in exchange for the _Apple_.

“Altair is already on his way to Masayaf-.“

Risha chose that exact moment to fly inside and placed Altair’s small message down.

“That damn NOVICE! Altair is riding after de Sable; we’ll be going for Masayaf.”

The eyes around him shone in anger, chock, disbelieve. The tension in the room buzzing with electricity. One after another everyone who could laid a hand against Malik’s shoulder or backside.

“We’ll follow you Malik.”


	8. I shall name you Risha. (7/7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'S only self-beta'd.

The impression Malik normally associated with the gates of Masayaf were _home_ and _warm_ and most of all _safe_. Currently he felt none of those.

It had taken them a day to prepare properly plus the time required to ride from and to but now Malik and everyone who followed stood in front of the open but unguarded gates. It felt like standing in front of a large maw of a dangerous predator.

The wind was blowing softly but there was absolute silence. No murmuring from Guards, no activity from the civilians or the squealing of playing children – not even the sound of neighing horses from the nearby stable. All quiet.

A truly eerie silence nobody wanted to break – and maybe give away their position too. For now, Masayaf wasn’t the home they returned to – they would return to Jerusalem.  
The sun didn’t do anything to warm the stones and created instead long and dark claw-like shadows.

And safe…it was far from safe.

Malik thought for a moment, he wanted to avoid the people just living here – if they were still here - but he was unsure too, in what state the city was in. That meant going the full-blown Assassin way.

His gaze wandered to his missing arm. Would he be able to do it?

No, no he wouldn’t.

Not alone.

He looked to the sky to the circling Risha and waved – a signal for her to land – and offered her his arm as she came down. Malik squared his shoulders and ushered her atop of them.

Then he motioned the others towards the rock-formations, the Assassin way meant climbing, jumping and balancing. A way no trainee would be sent because one mistake meant death most of the times or at least an injury that was carried a lifetime.

Below their hood’s eyes flashed with determination and various nodded in agreement. They would take the back-route to the castle.

By now Risha understood what he wanted to do and went lower onto his back digging her claws into the leather straps hidden below the Dai’s robe usually meant to carry his weapons; she would start flapping when he needed her.

He actually didn’t. The only time being as he wandered cross a rather thin and long beam over a large drop for balance, the other times he was assisted by his fellow Assassin’s and Informants. Hands secured his back when he had to reach for the next hold others pulled him up when he couldn’t reach high enough.

Malik should’ve felt resentment – he had refused help quite frequently living his life with a bird as his only assistant. But now he was just…grateful. There was no pity in their eyes just respect. One brother simply helping another.

The sound of clashing swords snapped through the silence urging them to even greater speeds. As they came out on top, they had the perfect view onto a surrounded Altair. Surrounded by their brothers. But their posture was off – all stiff, all in the same way.

As much as Altair went for non-lethal blows he could only do so much while being alone surrounded by people that were clearly trying to kill him – they had to help. And they did. Between the six of them their supposed-to-be brothers were incapacitated pretty quickly.

Malik shivered every time he had to look into the pupil-less shiny golden eyes, had they been possessed? In Al-Mualim’s messages he spoke of control of the masses, was this it? Empty puppets.

With a grateful gaze Altair sheathed his sword.

“Safety and peace brother.”

“Your presence will deliver us both.”

Altair’s whole posture stiffed, unsure how to take the compliment.

“Go, get the Apple.”

The eagle boy nodded and was gone like a flash.

Malik looked at the remaining people, like Altair he had not many _friends_ amongst his brothers, but he felt for his comrades that had the sadness reflecting in their eyes, their hurt and regret. He ordered the four others to remain here to look after their fallen and keep their backs clear. Malik would follow after Altair. He had to make sure that he was alright butting heads with Al-Mualim.

He started to run up the mountain, but a _thud_ let him stop in his tracks.

Risha was on the floor.

Quickly he bent down to shake her carefully, his heart hammering uncomfortable in his chest. As soon as he touched her, she jumped up as if he had just woken her up. So strange…and worrying.

 

* * *

 

It had creeped up on her. Sleep.

Penelope understood Malik’s worried look – she had fallen off his shoulder after all. What was happening to her? She had slept and ate properly beforehand but as she sat on his shoulder knowing Altair was safe, she just…took a nap.

Sleeping in the middle of a battle – how could she?!

Seeing that Malik made no indication to move she stood up and swung herself up in the air. Altair couldn’t face Al-Mualim without backup.

She didn’t know what kinds of skill the Mentor possessed having never seen him fight or how strong he was in general. With the Apple already in use they had no time to analyze his movement. Seeing her partner as only a small speck she ceased to care if Malik could keep up with her and sped after Altair.

As Penelope finally caught up with her Assassin he was in the gardens, kept unresponsive by being wrapped up in golden light. Her instinct to protect took over and made a dash towards Al-Mualim who stood with the Apple held high on a balcony.

She was never able to reach him.

A golden wave smacked against her, throwing her against the castle’s walls. Gravity pulled and she fell onto the floor.

Pain whitened out her vision.

Altair. Altair needed her.

But everything hurt.

Hurt. Hurt. Hurt.

She had to get up.

Silhouettes danced across her vision. They slowly took shape. Due to the posture she guessed who was who but her body was unresponsive. She couldn’t move.

Penelope cried. She wanted to help.

But she couldn’t.

She had to watch the whole fight hoping Altair would be fine – at least healable alive afterwards.

It was the hugest relive she ever felt as Altair’s blade tore through Al-Mualim and no duplicates appeared afterwards. Altair lowered the dead body to the ground and sprinted in her direction.

He was fine.

Her boy was fine.

The few scratches could heal easily.

Altair handled her so carefully as would she be made of glass, picking her up and cradling her to his chest. Penelope’s pain had become so great that her pain receptors just stopped working. She felt nothing in terms of touch.

Malik’s calls clang through the garden. Malik checked them over agitated beyond everything.

Altair shifted her to one side and pushed gently Malik away. He had switched to a hunter-auto-mode, something he fell back to if there just too many emotions at once. As soon as the cursed Piece of Eden was picked up it started up like a portable google maps.

A huge and pretty globe hologram appeared, marking dots scattered around on it.

She was so tired, so very tired.

Her boys were safe.

She could sleep for now.

 

* * *

 

The Brotherhood was a mess. Altair had barely time to check over Risha – she had no broken bones but didn’t wake up either – and hide the Apple away. Both were now secure in Al-Mua…Rashid ad-din Sinan’s old study. His own room would’ve been too obvious.

Many hours they bickered back and forth between the remaining and currently awake Assassins. In the end they decided to call it a night and meet up again when the sun stood high.

A lone candle was his source of light as he opened the heavy wooden door. Carefully he pulled back the cloth over Risha’s makeshift nest. He had to gasp.

All of her feathers were golden.

Weren’t it for her dark beak and the small rise and fall of her chest she could’ve been a statue made of pure gold! Desperate he pulled her up in his arms hoping that his friend, his family would wake up.

 

* * *

 

Something was pulling at her feathers. Half-asleep she shook herself trying to get rid of the small and touchy fingers interrupting her sleep.

A child squealed and the hands grabbed her even harder.

Penelope made the bird-equivalent of a groan and opened her eyes, coming face to face with the chubby face of boy of five years at most.

He was smiling widely at her and tried to pull her out of wherever she was. Taking a look around she was in some kind of study in Masayaf going by the banner on the wall and the stone structures. She had been placed up high in the shelf, but the kid stood on a stool trying to get to her.

She wasn’t a small bird and that meant she wasn’t a lightweight either. Before she could stop him, she was pulled out completely, the child didn’t expect her weight and fell backwards barely missing the edge of a desk.

The crash was quite loud, and the child was caught between wailing in pain and the pride of having her.

They were heard obviously, and a man stormed inside.

“DARIM IBN-!”

The man – Master Assassin going by his robes – stopped in his tracks, freezing like a statue. Using the shocked state the child was in, she pushed against his chest effectively freeing herself from his grip.

“Risha?”

The voice was quivering and familiar. Why was there a tremor in it? The Assassin moved and light fell against the lower part of the hood-hidden face. The scar was unmistakably Altair.

He looked so _old_.  
Not bad-old but definitely older that before.

Penelope trilled and the man sprung forward. She got scooped up and pressed against his chest. Altair was shaking, brushing through her feathers mumbling her name over and over again like a mantra.

“Alab?”

By now the little boy was back on his feet and pulled at the robes of Altair. Why did he call him Alab? Was he adopted? Altair loosened his hold on her giving her the chance to look in his face. There were more wrinkles and the strand of hair on his forehead – it was _grey_?!

Help?!

“Hello Risha, this is Darim. My first-born.”

First-born? That meant more than one. And that too meant there was a woman in the picture. When did Altair get a wife?!

Penelope was confused. Like really what the fuck happened?

Altair must’ve seen her confusion.

“I’ll…show you around.”

She shuffled a bit and turned around to sit comfortable on his left arm, the kid _Darim_ took his _father’s_ right hand. The castle looked largely the same – just even more books around filling the shelves. But the people, they send her confused looks and bowed their heads in respect. Outside Altair called out for Malik.

He stood in the shade of the castle walls with a well-worn Dai robe. He too had the lines of age on his face and grey streaks in his hair. As soon as he saw them the throwing knife in his hand fell clattering to the ground.

“…Risha?”

The disbelieve apparent on his face the Dai came forward and started to pet her, his eyes shiny. She leaned into his touch.

“It’s so good to see you, old friend.”

“Altair how…?”

“Darim sneaked into my office and pulled her off the board. I only heard the resulting crash before I ran in.”

“Are you sure that this is Risha?”

Now, that was not nice! Penelope fluffed her feathers up and snapped after Malik’s clothes. In an instant he backed away but the relieved smile on his face did not disappear.

“Ok, it is her. Has she already met your other rascal?”

Altair’s wife – that would be interesting too, Penelope was itching to know. How long has she been out? Regarding Malik’s question Altair shook his head – getting to know the rest of the family was their next stop. For the way back around Darim got picked up too and he didn’t even wait a second before clamping around her. Her Assassin clearly wanted to scold his boy but said nothing as she did nothing. Darim was only a child after all and didn’t had enough strength to crush her.

They were carried into the garden to a woman hiding behind a few bushes. She sat on a blanket with a toddler crawling around.

“Risha, this is my wife Maria and my other son Sef.”

Altair sounded so proud and she could see why. Despite the natural age-lines the woman was beautiful. Slender but not a twig with long black hair and the boy had healthy baby fat. Both sons were a good mixture between their parents as far as she could see.

The woman was obviously confused as to whom she was introduced to. A bird. Not necessarily normal.

And Penelope was golden. Completely golden. What had happened to her white feathers? Too many questions not enough answers. She completely missed the conversation between Altair and his wife only coming out of her thoughts as Darim was pried off her and Altair sat down. Maria reached out curiously to her and she held still as she brushed over her fathers a few times before retreating.

The brown eyes of the toddler tracked after her. He was cute – both of the kids were cute. Altair had a good gene-pool considering his looks and it did add wonderfully with Maria’s. She couldn’t deny those eyes, jumping off Altair’s lap hobbling slowly towards the youngest Ibn-La’Ahad.

He was less grabby than his brother. He only grabbed her once in the best way he could, fell to his side and snuggled against her. So sweet! She just had to coo at him.

It seemed to work like a lullaby because he yawned loudly, produced some spit-bubbles and fell asleep against her.

Darim wanted attention too but was pacified with something like a biscuit. He even came to her and held a bit in front of her beak. Penelope did take a bit of it, but it didn’t taste good, bland like edible paper. In the end Altair interfered before Darim could force-feed her further.

After a while Darim got bored and laid down on Risha’s other side, throwing one arm over her until he had his hand on his brother’s side and put the thumb of his free hand into his mouth.

And Penelope was awake. Squished between two children there wasn’t much she could do.  
Maria must’ve sensed that Altair was reluctant to leave.

“I’ll go get something to snack for us. You’ll keep an eye on them.”

Altair nodded thankfully and moved so she didn’t have to crane her head around that much to see him.

“You’ve missed so much. I’m leading the Brotherhood now… I don’t know where to start.”

He truly didn’t know were to start so she got told things not chronological accurate and had to piece them together herself. Maria had left them something to eat and drink, Altair feeding her. They sat there until Darim and Sef started to stir. They were hungry too.

By now it was dinnertime anyway. Maria took them away to clean up.

It was a pride-filled picture: The Mentor striding into the mess hall with the golden eagle on his shoulder.  
They caught the look of everyone. As they sat beside each other a man with scruffy beard and hair approached. It took her more than a few seconds to recognize the person below all of that.

“Is that Risha?”

It was Rauf.

“Girl you had us worried.”

She noticed how Altair gripped his bread tighter after the exclamation and she shuffled closer until she was basically laying in his lap.

Penelope still didn’t understand how she had slept that long. And was alive. Everyone was older. The squealing of Darim interrupted her thoughts, the boy ran to them arms and smile wide and more or less crashed into the backside of his father demanding attention. A few meters behind came Maria with little Sef in her arms.

“The two didn’t want to sleep before seeing the _pretty_ _bird_ again.”

On cue Darim’s arms let go and collected Risha mercilessly. The proportions between her and him were quite humorous, because she wasn’t much smaller than him, but she took it with stride even as it was a quite uncomfortable hold. Penelope could never say no to sweet kids.

“Can the bird sleep with me?”

“Darim-“

Penelope trilled to interrupt Altair. They had much to catch up with, but she would survive the night until the novelty wore off.

“You sure?”

She nodded and was quickly carried away into the double room of the family Ibn-La’Ahad. One would enter into the larger one first in which two beds were placed beside each other to create a large one, to the side half hidden behind a shelf and covered by a curtain was the doorway to the smaller room where Sef and Darim slept in – they had mattresses placed directly on the ground probably to keep them from hurting them if they roll out of bed.

What warmed her heart were the toys. On each bedding was a white stuffed eagle with yellowish-golden seams. Sef snuggled against his as soon as Maria laid him down. Darim pushed his fondly to the side and snuggled against her.

Penelope’s eyes started to water as she was allowed to witness the going-to-bed routine of the boys. Maria cared for them greatly showing it with each and every gesture. It made her miss home more than ever before.

She wanted home.

Maria actually told them as a bedtime story how she and Altair had met. It was quite interesting; it seems as love could conquer even the borders between two opposite fractions. By the end of the tale both boys were deeply asleep, and she tried to wiggle out of the octopus-like hold.

She only managed it with the help of Maria.

And she was tired.

…tired.

WAKE UP.

She couldn’t fall asleep again and uncertain if she would wake up in a long time without saying bye to Altair! Carefully she plugged two of her larger feathers out and placed them beside each boy.

Now she had to find Altair before she couldn’t fight against it any longer.

Penelope didn’t react to Maria’s questionable gaze and used the window as an exit. She found her Assassin where she thought he would be. Time couldn’t change everything.

On the highest tower away from everyone his silhouette sat in the moonshine.

She flew into his arms the tiredness pulling on her. Yes, she wanted home, but she didn’t want to leave him alone either; she didn’t want to hurt him!

“Shhhh.”

Altair drew her even deeper into his arms and rocked gently back and forth. He saw how worked up she was and the tiredness and sadness in his eyes made it clear that he understood.

“Calm down my friend.”

She fell into darkness to the sound of his beating heart.

 

* * *

 

“Niccolò, Messer La’Ahad said not to open this.”

“Aren’t you curious too brother mine?”

Muffled _Italian_ voices woke Penelope. She was wrapped up in something barely able to move and wood was creaking. Steps came to her as well as a loud _no_.

The intensity of the sun took her view for a moment.

A double exclamation of disbelieve came from the two men that stood in front of the now open box.

“A bird?! He wanted us to lock away a living creature!”

Where the hell was she?

Now seeing in what she was wrapped up – a beautiful piece of cloth – she was able to free herself and go airborne before she was caught.

Penelope was on a ship, the shouting because of her escape reaching up to her. They were so far away from shore that she only saw a slight line of gold in with the Vision. Her heart was hammering loudly in her chest. What should she do?

Eagle Vision never lead her wrong so she would follow it. After one last glance she made her way to the onshore.

The wind on the sea worked in her favor and carried her far very quick. The sunlight reflecting like many little stars on the blue surface.

The sun started to paint her evening colors onto the sky as she reached the coast. From there the way to Masyaf was easy, she knew where she was.

How long had she been out this time?

This question created a stone of balled up angst that made himself home in her chest. That something inside of her urging her to fly faster did nothing to reassure her either.

The land below her looked battered and she cried out desperately as she saw the unkept state of the castle. The thin golden line in her vision guided her inside the castle through the empty halls.

No Assassins, Trainees, Informants, Guards, - nobody.

The banners showing the Brotherhoods insignia were gone and bookshelves were thrown over.

It hurt deep inside of her.

Instinct lead her deeper underground until she reached the cellar. Green flashed up for a second and was locked away in the next.

Penelope wailed, a pitiful sound echoing in tandem with the heavy stone-door falling shut

She didn’t even look at the person standing in front of the gate even if he wore the familiar Assassin Whites.

Stricken with grief she landed in front of the large and decorated stone and leaned her head against it.

And dissolved into firefly lights.

 

* * *

 

> _[1] The first time being in the remaining notes of the Levantine Mentor around the 12 th century Altair Ibn-La’Ahad. Like the others he spoke of the bird as loyal and kind – unreplaceable. Risha, as his eagle was called, was dear to him like a sister and he speaks of her fondly.  
>  Unlike my other sources he made quite a few theories regarding the bird’s plumage, but none could be proven so far._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that comes the adventure in Altair's time to an end...


	9. Let the Eagle fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The interlude 's beginning!  
> And thank you very very much for your kind responses :)  
> (self-beta'd again)

_“Make sure that this video is deleted immediately wherever it is uploaded again or should appear next. We can’t have it out in the world - nobody shall search for them.”_

 

* * *

 

“Desmond, we have to move!”

“Where is Penelope?

He grabbed Lucy’s arm and came to a stop in the hallway.

“She’s not here, not at another Abstergo facility. So. Run. We don’t have time now!”

Reluctant to leave his parkour-buddy behind he followed the blonde only slowly.

“Where is she then?”

“I. Don’t. Know. Desmond.”

“What do you mean you don’t-.“

“STOP!”

Dark security personnel came around the corner. Cursing the two started running again, running around corners, closing doors behind them to shake them off their tails and came to an open space filled with tiny container-like animus workspaces.

Sure of the direction Stillman led him through the maze until they came out in front of the elevator. Number locked elevator. Lucky that not only hallucinations bled through and his view plunged into the black n’ white spectrum highlighting what he needed in gold.

Inside he started to ask again.

“How can you not know where she is?”

“Who?”

“Penelope!”

“I tried to smuggle her out beforehand. But she didn’t hesitate to use the card I put under her meal and use it to escape before I caught up. She was good but walked into a dormant experiment with an artifact and disappeared into thin air.”

Desmond was confused and was nursing a huge headache. He wanted out but he wanted to help Penelope too because she was in _his_ mess and now, he could do nothing else than to run?

He could do nothing else than to run.

Running behind Lucy hoping to not get caught. The garage had been a close call, but Lucy shoved him unceremonially into the trunk and was now jostled around in the darkness. It made it so much harder to ignore the sliver mist in the corners of his view sometimes taking form of thinks he had experienced before. Altair had experienced.

It seemed strange to him to have a ring finger and his body felt too big. But that was Altair. He was Desmond. Desmond Miles. Abduction victim of Abstergo who just had to leave someone behind who was the closed thing to a true friend he had in the last years.

Lucy spoke of an artifact that disappeared with her. What could disappear like that?

He was tired, he wanted to sleep.

He tried to squeeze his back into a thinner part of the trunk to keep himself from sliding around too much and hugged his knees closer to his chest. Trying not to think of the missing body of a bird in his embrace.

 

* * *

 

_The Universal Key to Eternity_ , modernly called _The Swiss Key_ was the name of the artifact Penelope disappeared with. Lucy tried to explain it to him the best she could, but time travel was a hard thing to wrap his mind around – it sounded even stranger than relieving his ancestor’s memories.

Ezio Auditore da Firenze.

That would be the next one. Rebecca currently made the last adjustments before he would go into the glorified Assassin version of the Animus. Would Ezio overwrite, mix or add to Altair’s memories that were like a small pressure in the back of his head? Would they push him away until Desmond is no more?

17 did not want to be like 16.

Shaun seemed to be annoyed by him. Or with the world in general, it was hard to distinguish. Markus would have a field day with him and drive him mad within seconds.

Markus… did the Nest miss them? Their owl sure – him? Hopefully. They had been friendly to him and made him feel at ease – not really to be honest but more than everyone else in the resent years.

Assassin. Templar. Assassin. Templar. The war he had been only told about as a child was a true thing. It was his genetics they were after and that would mean he would’ve ended up in an Animus either way. He didn’t regret running away living as long as he could. It would probably end now.

He just got asked if he was _ok_ or if he was _fine_ , never how he was doing. And considering his situation he was ok, he was _fine_ but the situation itself was shit – he wasn’t doing well.

Desmond would have to ask if he could manipulate animus memories. He had seen not much of Altair’s bird and he seemed to be pretty close to it but _Risha_ dancing at a synchronization point until she fell over. That was too close to discussion he had with Penelope to be true.

“Baby ‘s ready.”

There goes nothing.

 

* * *

 

“Hey Beccs, can I manipulate the memories inside of the Animus?”

Rebecca who was elbow-deep in the wirings of the cursed stool looked up in surprise.

“No, why should you? It’s more or less a pre-recorded film, nothing changeable there unless you mean the little knick-knacks to keep you better entertained. Why are you asking?”

“It’s nothing, curiosity.”

With that Desmond turned away deep in thought. Maybe Shaun could help him. He does a superb job in collecting facts and he should have access to his unraveled Altair memories. If someone could help, it’s him.

Carefully he approached the furiously typing Brit.

“WHAT do you want Desmond? I am busy.”

“Did you go through the information gathered about Altair? It’s his bird Risha, she was quite unusual.”

The gaze that was thrown his way was one of disbelieve.

“Seriously, of all the unusual things about the Levantine Mentor you ask about his bloody bird?!”

Desmond felt uncomfortable in his skin and shuffled from one foot to the other.

“You’re serious about this.”

Shaun sighed heavily and drank out of his coffee-mug. A memory-stick was pulled out of a compartment under the desk, plugged in, filled with some folders and pushed into Desmond’s hand.

“Now, leave me alone and don’t bother me again.”

Crestfallen he turned away to his own computer. It wasn’t connected to the internet or anything. The only thing it was usually useful for was killing time by playing solitaire or flipper – at minesweeper was he abysmal.

It took him a bit of searching to find a document about Risha, a so-called Masayaf Eagle. Shaun had just dumped nearly everything to Altair on that stick. In the end he found one single file.

There were some black-and-white photos of bird sketches and the confirmation that she had existed but nothing that could help him finding the answer. Altair had found her as a fledgling when he was just a young boy himself and the records of her stop after the fall of Al-Mualim.

Pity stirred in his chest. Desmond had seen how she had tried to protect him – protect Altair – and he had picked her up too while she was still breathing. She must’ve died because of the injuries after the memory ended. Getting smacked into a wall wasn’t good for anyone. Altair had been so worried about her.

Still no information that answered his question.

Was Animus-memory manipulatable?

 

* * *

 

Penelope cried. She was kneeling on nothing, bend down with her hands over her head. That she was human didn’t bother her at the moment.

She had missed Altair; she couldn’t say goodbye to him. Or Malik. It must’ve hurt him; had he saw her in the end? Thoughts in her head turned around and around.

Penelope would never see them again.

“ _Shhhh_ …”

Strong hands grabbed her sides and pulled her against a warm surface. The being had her in its embrace. It held her tight, rocked her gently brushing through her hair.

.

.

Time here meant nothing. She could stay this coddled until her heart calmed down as well as her mind.

.

.

As Penelope had finally a grip on herself, she relaxed her strong hold on the being’s thin arms and leaned a bit backwards. The world around her was not only nothingness anymore. Patches of wheat-plants as if they had been directly taken out of reality were here and there. It must’ve followed her gaze.

“I threw some seeds around so they would grow while we were away. It looks better now, or not?”

Right. It wasn’t existing while she was a bird. Penelope wasn’t sure if she would call it better looking but it made it easier to have some sense of distance. A question burned in her chest.

“Why did I sleep?”

It shuffled his position until it was sitting on its bum while she was leaning against its side.

“The body has to be trained to contain that much energy, that’s while you dissolved in the end. You should’ve been gone as soon as you were hit by the blast of the Apple but that’s not fair to you. I thought it would bring you peace to see that Altair managed his live wonderfully and died just as peacefully too. His age is impressive even if he were born around your time. By letting you sleep it kept the body from overflowing and you had the chance to see him again.”

That was…ok. Altair had been so proud of his family and Malik had been looking well too as she saw him. It still hurt. But it was ok.

Penelope reveled in the warm and soothing presence days, weeks, months – hell years! And didn’t care but something inside of her grew restless.

The being broke the silence.

“Is there a flower you like?”

“My favorites are water lilies.”

It made a thinking pose and hummed.

“We’ll need water. I’ll make a dent, plant the seeds and let it rain while we are away.”

The head nodded in content.

Penelope didn’t want to be put into a person’s live again and be torn from him or her again. She didn’t need to be hurt twice – or hurt somebody else. She told it that thoroughly. Not again.

The being made his thinking pose and started humming again. It actually reminded her of the _harrums_ of Treebeard from the Lord of the Rings films when she thought about it. Strangely soothing. It had been so long since she saw a film.

“I maybe have a solution. It’s close enough to the next ancestor Desmond will visit and you’ll be in contact with an Apple. But not as much and you’ll be able to collect more too this time.”

“I’ll be going from null again?”

“Not completely, you’ll be a young bird and not a fledgling straight out of the nest. I think you are going to like him. Quite a quirky personality.”

Insecurity festered inside of her. What the being proposed sounded good enough, but could she continue without breaking?  Did she want to continue?

This time she initiated the embrace and pressed herself against the warmth.

Fuck. She was curious.

She had leaned so, _so_ much already and she could learn so much more. Saw places others could only dream of or admire in photos because they got worn out by time. In terms of memory capability she was neither good nor bad – an average – but having the time of more than a lifetime gave her the opportunity to learn more than a human ever could. And if she thought about it, hurtful things – be it physical or mental – were only few in-between, easily less that what she had by living her human life.

She must like to torture herself.


	10. Do you like Chiara? (1/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> self-beta'd

True to the being’s words she didn’t begin at null. Going by what she could see of herself her feathers were the first set of white plumage after her grey baby downs.

And she was in a cage.

A _fucking_ cage.

She barely had enough space to turn around! Naturally she didn’t like it one bit and made her discomfort and anger known with loud and high screeching.

“Ah, it’s awake!”

Very dirty and ugly fingers entered her line of vision. They were part of an equally dirty and ugly man that reeked like he came from the deepest slum of Jerusalem. He was fat as well as his hair extremely oily.

Weren’t Italian supposed to look good?  
How long must’ve someone go without a wash to archive this level of uncleanliness?

At this point a _hooray_ to Altair’s language lessons. Would she have to talk Italian she would probably pronounce most things wrong, but she understood it well enough.

As these fingers were in range Penelope gave it her best and snapped her beak shut around them. The man howled in a mixture of surprise and hurt, throwing the cage off the table where it had stood.

The impact made her brain rattle and she needed a few seconds to regain her bearings, but the overall feeling made it worth it.

Penelope must’ve truly hit because the man was swearing her to hell and back and a bit of blood was dripping onto the floor.

Well…never underestimate a bird?

But she should’ve thought more about it. In this cage she had no way of fleeing and the man was angry. Very angry somewhat understandably. And the man had a knife.

“I’LL GUT YOU OUT AND EAT YOU FOR DINNER YOU STUPID FEATHERBALL!”

By now they had the attention from everyone around them. They were right in the middle of a market. Colorful displays of clothes, spices, and food everywhere.  
The merchant from the next stall was laughing loudly about his fellow’s misery, making himself a target to vent out the anger.

Fist fight ahoy!

From her position she had a prime view onto the spectacle worthy of the _is-the-fish-fresh_ debates from the Asterix-comics – ah good childhood memories.  
More and more people joined in on the fun until armed men came and tried to untangle the mess.

Two slender boots blocked her vision and – whoa! And that must be the blues blue in eyes she had ever seen. The teen had long blond hair bound back loosely, wore a grey tunic and with just a hint of a rather feminine figure it made him the most beautiful boy in that age-class she had ever seen. Like truly, not kidding. People would probably pay tons to have him modelling.

In his arms he had a large wooden box but he bended down with the ease of someone used to carrying such cargo around often. Uninhibited curiosity reflected in his face. Whatever he found with her it had to please him greatly. He turned to face the aftermath of the brawl and asked into the group of people.

“Whose bird is this?”

No one made a claim, the ugly man who had held her was currently dragged away unconscious. One…guard, maybe… he was an armed man, was clearly stressed and done and just waved his hand dismissively.

“Take it, leave it, I don’t care.”

The boy didn’t need to be told twice. The box he carried was put down, slender fingers grabbed her cage and turned it right-around steadily, giving her the time to shuffle accordingly, and the cage was placed atop of the things in the box. There were papers, brushes and little pots – probably some kind of paint going by the rest of the content.

The small tower was picked up and the long legs carried her quickly through the people.

“Leo, over here! We should head home!”

“Oh, ok Domenico.”

“Please don’t tell me you bought another bird.”

The older, brown haired teenager sighed excessively and facepalmed.

“Then I won’t tell you _and_ I haven’t paid anything for her.”

“YOU STOLE?!”

“By God’s, no! I found her on the floor besides a fight. Asked who’s bird it was, and no one answered. A guard said I could take her. And look at her! She looks magnificent just like the sketches Maestro owns.”

To underline his point _Leo_ held the box with the extension of the cage closer to the other’s face who still didn’t look convinced.

“Just…let us go. Maestro will want his utensils.”

A third and older boy also carrying a filled box joined them and the trio made their way out of the colorful mass of people a few streets down to a carriage. The newcomer had brown hair as well but was rounder as an overall shape. While they were sitting, shaken by the ride over the uneven ground he bend down to get a good look on her – Leo had the cage currently on his lap.

“A truly magnificent creature. Say, what do you have to pay this time?”

“Nothing – and no I didn’t steel her – a guard allowed it. Remember the collection of loose bird-sketches Maestro got a few months ago? We couldn’t tell what bird it was but look at her, she fits the description perfectly.”

The boy made a humming noise.

“You’re right – all-white feathers, grey beak and intelligent golden eyes. Fits perfectly.”

After a break he added:

“How are you sure that she’s a _she_ not a _he_?”

“I guessed,” he turned his head to face the cage, “you are a lady, aren’t you?”

He got it right on his first try and made honest compliments too! Penelope thrilled. It startled him a bit and she got lifted up to come face to face with him.

“Truly a beauty. How about a name for you? Do you like Chiara?”

 

* * *

 

Along with the various boxes she was carried inside of a pretty stone building with a shop at street-level. The inside was stuffed with canvases, sketches and half-finished statues; she didn’t know where to look first with the colorful display.

“Maestro Verrocchio we’re home!”

“Welcome back.”

A man appeared with a kind smile behind a larger block of stone, hammer and gouge in his hands. As soon as he saw her his smile faltered for a bit.

“Leonardo, I told you that you have to stop buying animals to set them free. There is not enough money for it.”

“A guard said I could take her; didn’t have to pay. And just look at her! I want to draw her.”

The man sighed and put his tools away.

“Then let’s have a look at her. Make space on my desk.”

The younger boys answered with mumbled _yes-s_ and set to work. The aforementioned desk was in a separate room (looking quite deprived of live compared to the main room without the excessive amount of artworks) and the remaining things atop of it were carefully put aside.

Penelope wondered how many were here. There was Leonardo, Domincio, the third one, that Rochere-someone as well as _another_ boy, that came a few minutes later eyeing her curiously.

The only window in the room was closed as well as the door.

Leo cautiously approached her cage which was already standing on the desk. From his movement it was easily to decipher that he didn’t want to be pecked at.

“I am going to open the door Chiara. Don’t make a mess.”

The quiet _please_ was nearly inaudible.

Nimble fingers opened the door and the blonde stepped back quickly.

Penelope took her time, examining the others with the Eagle Vision. Except Leonardo everyone had a blue shade barely stronger that the civilian grey. But Leonardo, that boy was a halogen spotlight in comparison forcing her to blink to get rid of the sight. He had shone in a deep blue color littered with streaks of gold and green – a very friendly and honest person.

Finished with her assessment she stepped out of her cage and spread her wings. The whole room tensed but it wasn’t her intention to fly away. Just stretching.

 

* * *

 

What a wonderful creature! Leonardo had always been fascinated by birds, but she overshadowed each and every bird he had ever seen personally in beauty.

It was wonderous too how calm she was despite how wild her eyes were. After exiting the cage and spreading her wings she made no move to flee. Had she been born into captivity?

The picture of her – the wings spread wide with the little sunray coming though a small hole in the cover of the window shining upon her and the little bit of dust dancing around – didn’t left his mind.

It took him a bit of searching, but he found an unoccupied paper and some coals. Ignoring everyone and everything around him he sat himself against a free speck on the wall and started drawing.

Stoke after stroke the picture came to live, but much to his frustration he didn’t seem to get it right. The proportions were off, lines too thick, too dark for such a bright creature.

A surprisingly deep trilling got him out of his thought. Chiara as he had named her sat between his legs craning her neck…to see what he was doing? He breathed in sharply and lowered his paper; the bird’s gaze followed it.

For him it was a proof of intelligence.

Those around them could only watch.

How exiting!

“A am Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci, a pleasure to meet you Chiara.”

For some reason she squeaked, he interpreted it as a hello.

 

* * *

 

_LeonardodavinciLeonardodaVinci_ Leonardo-fucking-DaVINCI!

Penelope was just greeted by one of the most famous artists she knew of – or rather who would become one of the most famous artists she knew of. It floored her instantly, an undignified squeak of shock-surprise leaving her.

He just smiled and moved to pet her – slowly should she pull away, but her thoughts were otherwise occupied.

Da Vinci is scratching her head! She got petted by da Vinci!

The rest of the day was more of a dream. After she had made no move to be averse to human touch Leonardo had no trouble picking her up and carrying her around. She got fed with a mouse they had caught in a trap in the panty and a bowl of water was placed in front of her. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was.

After a while they didn’t even bother to make sure everything was closed. The night came and the boy quartet retreated for sleep. They were sharing a room over the atelier with two bunkbeds.

Was it strange that she thought that it’s strange that none of them had scars, at least none that were visible? Just as carefree with his body as Altair had been changed the four in front of her. By now she just found her sleeping position while, whoever was in the room, switched to sleepwear. The bedpost would do for now. She tugged her head under her wing and was out for the night.

 

* * *

 

Leonardo’s thoughts wouldn’t settle down. They turned and spun in his head ever creating. Chiara was a great inspiration, but a bad bedtime thought.

The different breathing-pattern of his fellow apprentices slowed down, and he waited a moment longer to ensure their sleep before throwing back his blanket. Careful of the bed above him he moved completely silent out of his bed. After more than a year he knew by heart which wooden plank creaked under which move.

Two golden marbles flashed in the moonlit-darkness and he hissed in shock. Only slowly came the realization that it were the bird’s eyes reflecting the little bit of light. She unfurled further and reached out with a leg towards him.

What did she want of him?

Her claw opened and closed but he still didn’t understand her reasoning. On a whim he moved closer and moved his hand towards her. As soon as he was close to her, she jumped on his hand making him nearly stumble against the bedpost as he tried to counter her unexpected weight.

Now she sat on his hands pressing his fingers uncomfortably together.

What now?

He was awake, she was awake, and he wouldn’t sleep within the next hour.

Leonardo would draw. Maybe it could settle his mind. On tiptoes armed with a bird he sneaked back into the atelier.

“Still awake Leonardo?”

The boy froze in his spot. His teacher was still awake sketching in the light of candle and moon. The man pulled a stool beside him and patted it – Leonardo should sit with him.

Andrea del Verrocchio was kind to him like a second father. With three boys his shop was already quite full, but he still allowed him to join in. Hesitantly he sat down and ushered Chiara onto the floor.

“I saw your sketches. Nature is a mixture between stiff lines and moving curves, don’t be shy to move your wrist.”

Leonardo got pen and paper pressed into his lap.

“Let’s draw again.”

Teacher and student looked up in surprise as they heard the shuffling of feathers. Chiara had positioned herself in front of them – wings spread wide.

“There is no better sign to start.”

 

* * *

 

Andrea smiled to himself as he watched his pupil draw with a new and eager flame in him. He had listened as his boys talked about the bird’s resemblance to the sketches he got.

They were the still intact ones he had found between the pages of an old Arabic book. Compared to the book and it’s writing the sketches were considerably better preserved, a small miracle if the dates on them were correct. Roundabout 300 years were an immense amount of time, the book had maybe 60 and was in far worse state.

The little bit of text he could decipher with his crude knowledge of the Arabic language spoke of a bird called Risha. An eagle with the intelligence of a human, caring beyond measure. His first guess had been that it was the start of a children’s story; the eagle had a form that made it easy to recognize it but the size and plumage were nothing he had ever encountered before. And he had done some research.

A weight settled against his tight – Leonardo had fallen asleep against him. Andrea took everything out of his student’s hand and carried him as well as he could considering his age and Leo’s weight to the fluff-carped they had; normally it was meant for models to sit or lay down for a longer period of time.

He wasn’t strong enough anymore to carry the boy to his bed.

With a fatherly smile he brushed a few loose stands out of the boy’s face and tugged a blanket over him.

Chiara actually came over and crawled under the blanket too, her head barely sticking out.

The teacher had found something new to draw.

 

* * *

 

“I want to keep her.”

The next morning right before breakfast Leonardo stood in front of Andrea with Chiara in his arms. The Artist had been continuing his work on the statue and turned away from it with a sigh.

“You know animals can’t stay here. This is not the right place. It’s unusual that she broke or dirtied nothing so far.”

Leo breathed in to make an argument but was interrupted.

“And we don’t know what she would require. As calm as she seemingly is, she still is a creature of the wild…let her go.”

When his teacher had that stern mimic there was no chance of persuading him. He nodded downcast and made his way to the backyard. Through the shop, out of the backdoor.

The warm sun somehow made his mood worse. Sandro, the oldest of them, who was sketching flowers outside gave him a raised eyebrow.

“Leo…what is it?”

“I can’t keep Chiara.”

“You haven’t kept any animal you bought more than a day.”

“But I want to keep her.”

Sandro’s face turned to a gentler expression as he saw Leonardo’s small pout. He put his things beside to stand beside the younger one and gave him a shoulder pat.

“Let her fly. As smitten as she looks to be with you, she won’t stay far away.”

Leonardo sighed and gave her a boost into the air. Chiara staggered in the beginning but then flew lazy circles over their heads letting out a screech.

It took him minutes before Leonardo could turn away and go inside but the fluttering of wings stopped him in his tracks. Not wanting to have false hopes he turned around slowly but there she was – directly behind him on the floor.

He made a step towards the door.  
She did too.

He made another one.  
She too.

In that manner the odd duo walked inside back into the atelier.

“Maestro she follows me.”

Would he have stood on the other side of the room he could’ve seen his teacher’s rolling eyes.

 

* * *

 

It took a while for Penelope to be fully accepted.

At first, she wasn’t even allowed into the house anymore however slowly but surely the rest warmed up to her. Or rather Andrea was pleaded repeatedly by his pupils to keep her until he couldn’t take it anymore and capitulated.

The last place she was allowed in the atelier. Pietro – the rounder one from the first day – refunctioned an old hatrack for her so perch on in the artist’s heaven.

In the end she kind of had the function of a cat: keeping rodents out of the house.

The five-head strong household was sunny. They were respectful and friendly towards each other; the students fitting seamlessly into the work of their teacher. Wistful she thought back to her old trio, the time before Kadar’s death. They would’ve loved this.

So many things to see, so many new things to learn with no shadow created by death. She wished to introduce them Leonardo.

Even this young he was an exceptionally bright mind growing in a good environment. Perfect for people meant for greatness.

Even the bird’s praised him.

Being a bird herself she understood them. When Leo was outside training his skills, sparrows and doves lingered longer, waiting for him to finish his work before they flew away. He had set so many of them free that they saw no need to flee when he came close.

In Masayaf she never interacted with the other birds living there, especially the other predatory ones seemed to be big-headed and unpleasant company. Altair and Malik took care of her. But here in Florence she slowly grew to the boss of the biggest rumor-mill that existed outside of human’s reach.

After the smaller birds understood that she wouldn’t eat them – even protect them from other predators – they came to her and talked to her about everything and everyone – no filter.

Human Penelope turned eagle, formerly called Risha and now called Chiara found a home in 1467 Italy in – again – an all-male household.

Where there ever important women around?


	11. Do you like Chiara? (2/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all very much for your kind comments, means a lot to me 😊  
> Actually, I broke my first big milestones of 500+ hits and 50+Kudos – thanks once more.  
> I’ve got my car-theory-test tomorrow (one step closer to a driver’s license whoop whoop – if I pass, hopefully) and I’ve got holidays next week spending them at the beach while I should be studying for my university-exams in about a month…so I don’t know if I can update as frequent as I have been with the last few chaps. And it’s self-beta’d again. Just you know should you hear nothing from me the next 2 to 3 weeks from me.  
> Have a nice day you all.

Penelope sat on a low stone wall letting the sun shine on her belly while Leonardo drew her. She had just eaten the rest of the meat that had been over from last night’s dinner and was happily sated. It was such a good day that she tried to trill the melody of _you are my sunshine_.

Tried was the word. Leo laughed at her wailing, but she took it in good humor.

Two pairs of small and fast footsteps slapped onto the pavement accompanied by childish giggling. The responsible ones ran around the corner with such speed that the older one barely missed Leonardo and the younger one ran into the artist’s side.

“Sorry!”

The two were obviously brother – same hair and eye color. One around the age of ten and the other maybe a bit over five. The smaller noticed her as he detached from Leo’s grey tunic.

“Brother, look! Pretty bird!”

The other let out a sound of excitement.

“Sir, is this your bird?”

The artist put his things away in a safe distance and pulled a leather glove on, reaching out for her to land on it. The two others gasped in awe.

“Yes, she’s my eagle. I am Leonardo and you?”

The older one pulled his brother back to keep him from crowding Leo and did the introduction:

“I am Federico sir, and this is my brother Ezio.”

From now behind him Ezio singsong _pretty bird, fluffy bird_ while Federico had a soft blush from embarrassment on his cheeks.

They didn’t know her, but Leonardo did, and he knew how much she liked to be scratched. He held her closer to the siblings.

“If you are careful you can pet her.”

After that Ezio was without a hold and stepped forward as fast as possible on his short legs. His hand went over her plumage in an uneven fashion, making her squeak in protest and Federico caught Ezio’s hand and pulled it away.

“Ezio, you have to do it with the grow of the feathers not against it. It could hurt her.”

The boy looked crestfallen and pouted.

She couldn’t stand sad children! Penelope ruffled her feathers to order them the best she could before bending to her belly. She selected a big down feather and plugged it out. It was hard to make a sound with a feather in her beak, but she managed a muffled one and bend forward.

Ezio’s eyes caught hers and grew wide. Slowly he came close again and held his hand out where she let the feather fall in. In silent awe he inspected the perfect white feather. She did the same for Federico who gave her a silent _thank you_.

“FEDERICO AND EZIO AUDITORE!”

A fury wouldn’t be sufficient to describe the woman that came around the corner, the siblings flinched in union and got their ears pulled.

“You are not to run away from me or leave your brother behind.”

“But mother-!”

“No buts!”

A third and even younger boy looked up sheepishly behind his mother’s dress. Like a switch turned off she turned to Leo with a beaming smile, startling Penelope as well because it was quite a picture with her still pulling Federico’s and Ezio’s ears who were quietly begging for forgiveness.

“I am sorry if my sons bothered you.”

“Eh…no problem Mrs.?”

“Auditore. Maria Auditore,” her eyes fell onto the discarded sketches beside him, “you are an artist Mr.?”

“Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci, Mrs. Auditore. But I am still learning under Verrocchio.”

“Then, your work looks promising and you have a great teacher. Excuse me I have to bring them home.”

And as fast as she came as fast she disappeared with her sons. She and Leo could only look at each other in surprise.

 

* * *

 

“Do you think we should decorate her too?”

Currently the artist household was dressing up to bring a commission to its new owner and attend his little party which was basically just a big sign for _look at me I have money_.

“Should be even bring her with us?”

Domenico asked a valid question, but Leo wouldn’t hear it.

“Of course, we take her with us, maybe I have an idea.”

She was placed onto the table and the blonde got a damp towel to clean her up a bit. After that he got a thin wine-red band. He placed it around her neck and closed it in a small bow, the ends were cut off.

“Now she looks like she could go into fine company.”

The rest just sighed. Leonardo was so hooked onto the bird there was no chance of convincing him otherwise. Then Penelope saw her reflection. Her breath hitched.

_Damn girl, you are looking fine_.

The red made a beautiful contrast to her white feathers and it remembered her of Alab and Altair, the color was just a tiny bit darker than their belts had been.

Showtime.

Below his green tunic Leonardo had hidden leather around his arm so she could sit on it without drilling her claws into his flesh – even if she was careful, they were quite long.

They were the middle of the party.

People approached them fascinated by the tame and beautiful predator amongst them and the equally pretty youth that carried her around. Verrocchio got quite many new commissions this night.

During a quiet minute the son of the employer snatched Leo’s free writs and pulled him onto a balcony. Under the night sky they talked about everything under the sun, after a while she repositioned onto the railing because Leo stated to talk more and more animated waving his hands around and the other was fully caught in it.

The more Penelope thought about it, this was as close as flirting two males could do in this time period. Weren’t there some rumors in her time whether or not da Vinci had been interested in male partners? Mentally she shrugged – she would see it in the next years to come.

Actually, she got quite a good hint at it as they came home in the early hours of the day. Leonardo was sketching him. Without clothes. _Yeah_...

 

* * *

 

After the party she refused to let them take off the red band and Penelope was allowed to keep it.

Currently she was sitting on the rooftop because there was too much chaos in the atelier were the rest was located. The only entertainment she had at the moment was the little group of doves on the next roof were two of them reenacted a play they had watched.

Doves could neither sing well nor were good actors.

Her mind was nearly offline as she heard it: a very soft and weak chirp. It took her a moment to truly register it. Cautious she switched her vision and looked around. A mini golden speck was in the tree down the street.

She leaped of the roof and flew towards it.

There was a little chick, barely eyes open, caught in a crotch. On the floor was a torn apart nest and the half-eaten remains of a crow. The struggling of the chick grew weaker, she couldn’t leave it!

With her heart beating wildly she trilled softly to soothe the young and carefully encircled it in her claw. As soon as she had it, she made her way back barely landing without overbalancing on the windowsill.

Ignoring the chattering of the gossiping doves the squeaked to get the attention of at least someone of the five inside – she got them all.

“What do you have there Chiara?”

She chirped again with more vigor and turned her claw a bit around so the chick would be better visible; she wouldn’t let go of it, however.

“Oh my! Chiara has a chick!”

A collective _what_ went through the others.

~*~

Out of some rest cloth a makeshift nest was made on a shelf close to the window and it was easy enough to place the little crow inside of it and drape herself over it for warmth without crushing it.

Now came the hard part: feeding.

What did he need?!

The doves outside were giggling until she could take it no more. Penelope turned to face them and screeched in their direction.

“What would you do?!”

“Worms my dear, worms.”

One of the elder doves answered her.

“How do I get them.”

“You stay here. We get you some. You help us often enough and you need a break anyway.”

With that began the most exhausting weeks she ever had. And she had flown many _maaany_ kilometers over ocean and land in searing heat before. She couldn’t leave the little one she dubbed Abraxas or short Rax for more than a few minutes and he was hungry like 24/7.

The household was quite cross because of the many doves flying in and out because they weren’t careful with the work standing around and they were a loud bunch too, they were tolerated only because they brought food for the small one. However, as soon as the little one could eat small meat-stripes on his own Andrea closed the windows and shooed any dove away that came even close to the workshop. Penelope pitied Leonardo who always had to clean up the mess but when he was done, he came to the nest his eyes sparkling in excitement. By now he had a whole book worth of sketches that recorded the growth of Rax. Or Fernando. The household dubbed him Fernando. In the end it was the name that stuck instead of the one she had chosen.

Then finally, he molded into feathers that would be able to carry him to the sky.

And they were white.

A crow with white plumage.

Nobody could deny that he was a fine specimen to draw. This was the time too, he really started to communicate.

And he called her Mother.

Highly flustered she explained between embarrassed stuttering that she wasn’t his mother and would rather be called a sister.

“What am I?”

“A crow. Just with white feathers instead of black.”

“I wanna see one!”

“Then you have to fly.”

In the evening she stood up and flew to Leonardo’s side who was munching on some apple slices. She opened her wings in front of him, softly flapping as not to leave the ground then looked in the direction of the nest.

It dawned on him slowly.

“Fernando is ready to fly?”

Penelope nodded rigorously.

The blonde stood up, armed himself with leather gloves and went to the nest to collect the young crow. He held his hand out and it jumped on it and offered his other to her. With them both he went to the backyard.

Penelope took the sky and called to Fernando encouragingly. He flapped his wings but did not leave the safety of the glove. She endured it for a few minutes before she grew impatient.

Penelope pulled her wings to her body and fell down. Last second her wings snapped open and she snatched the crow carrying it up. He barely fit into her hold and wiggled. As she was high enough she simply let go.

Fernando was screeching in panic but just as her first flight had been purely instinctual, nature kicked in in him too.

Leonardo was laughed up to them, waving.

 

* * *

 

From there on Fernando was gone most of the time until one night he came back battered and bruised.

“What happened!?”

“Crows, that’s what happened.”

He pulled his head down in shame and retreated under the safety of her wing. After a few deep breathes he told her his sorrow.

“I am a crow, you said that! Then I looked for some; had to search quite a while – you scare them…they called me an ugly dove! I just wanted to fly with them!”

Oh boy, she had no idea how to deal with peer groups. As a human she had not been an outcast but just had one or two constant people around her – the rest were friendly acquaintances. Peer groups were never a problem for her.

Penelope could only hold him.

 

* * *

 

“Lorenzo could you please get my commission from Verrocchio?”

“In a moment!”

Lorenzo de Medici finished his sentence on paper and stashed his things back into his desk. He quickly ran down the stairs before his father could disappear in his study.

“Verrocchio was not far from Tony’s smithery, right?”

The man stopped in his tracks and turned around; his arms filled with papers.

“Yes, it’s the on the street running towards the city entrance.”

With that the teen was out into the streets of Florence. The sun shone with nearly brutal strength down and he was just short of turning around going back into the much colder house.

But he hadn’t done the assignments for the bank he should’ve been doing during the last few hours – poetry is so much more interesting. His father would notice this. So no going back home now.

By the time he arrived at the workshop his hair as well as his shirt stuck uncomfortably on his backside thanks to the sweat. He knocked on the door.

It was opened and he got pulled inside quickly. After the brightness from outside his eyes needed a moment to adjust in the comparable darkness. Verrocchio had opened the door for him, but his apprentices were half sitting, half laying on stools and the floor unmoving.

Lorenzo was very grateful as he got handed a wet cloth.

“You are here for the commission of your father? It’s done and stands beside the door. You are welcome to rest a moment before you go back outside.”

“Thank you.”

Imitating the others, he sat down where he stood. Verrocchio chuckled at that and eased down onto his own chair and pulled a wet cloth over his eyes. Lorenzo took the time to look around. What caught his eyes were the birds sitting beside the blonde teen laying on the floor. While one looked just as drained as he felt the other was actually quite lively especially compared to the rest.

The aforementioned teen had noticed his staring and raised his hand in a greeting.

“I am Leonardo, this white puddle is Fernando, “ he pointed to his left, “ and this hyper lady is Chiara,” his finger wandered to the other side.

“Nice to meet you, I am Lorenzo.”

There wasn’t more energy wasted on talking. But he took a good look at the birds, an eagle and a crow both in snow white where a rarity onto themselves.

 

* * *

 

Leonardo looked concerned to Chiara. Fernando was gone for a few days now and she was agitated. Every two hours she flew outside and came back after another looking more and more worried.

He picked her up and brushed though her feathers to calm her down. Laggardly she leaned against his chest and her breathing slowed.

_Tock. Tock. Tock_.

Startled Chiara head shot up. Leonardo gently pushed her head back against his chest and made his way to the door. As he opened it, he came face to face with a sheepish looking Lorenzo.

“Oh, hello Lorenzo.”

“Greetings, I may have your bird.”

Leonardo opened the door fully and led him inside. And on Lorenzo’s shoulder was the missing crow.

“He visited me, but I just noticed that he never flew far away from my window when I send him into the night. Sorry.”

“It’s fi-.”

Chiara started screeching and Fernando looked away. Was she scolding him? The two teens could only watch in wonder and the others of the household that were currently home came in too, looking what the commotion was.

End of the song was that Fernando stayed with Lorenzo. It was one bird less to care for and he looked happy even if Chiara was quite grouchy.

 

* * *

 

“That’s it Chiara, hold it a bit longer and then you can sing!”

Andrea was very busy but there was nothing Leonardo could do to help him at the moment without standing in the way. So, he picked up his other pastime when he wasn’t sketching – music. He had been sitting outside playing a fine tune on his lyre as she couldn’t help herself and whistled along.

Quite badly.

Leonardo took it as a challenge to teach her how to carry a tune. And they’ve been at it for hours torturing everyone in a 500m radius.

But no one was able to stop Leo when he was on a run but hey, she now could hold a note in her mediocre range of bird voice without wavering.

Someone hid Leo’s lyre during the night.

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Auditore, how long as it been!”

Lorenzo sped up to his old childhood hero he had spotted by chance on the streets. In his company was his oldest son.

“Good day Lorenzo. My, my you certainly have grown like a weed. How are you?”

“I’m well, helping my father here and there, my teacher is dumping so much on me as if I had nothing else to do – you know, the usual.”

The older man chuckled.

“My boys would agree with you, but education is important.”

Federico started whining in a response.

“But not _that_ much father!”

From above them Fernando crowed, his sign that he wanted to land. Lorenzo held his hand out and he came down to them. Auditore junior’s eyes went wide and he pulled excitedly at his father’s clothes.

“Look, look. He has a white bird too!”

Lorenzo tuned so that his crow was easier to see for the smaller boy.

“This is the newest addition to our household. I got Fernando from a friend of mine.”

“Leonardo has one too!”

Giovanni looked at his son with pulled up eyebrows.

“Who is Leonardo?”

“I and Ezio-“

“Ezio and I.”

“ _Ezio and I_ showed you the feathers, we got them from Leonardo’s bird.”

Lorenzo linked himself into the conversation.

“I know Leonardo, he is the friend I mentioned. Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci is an art apprentice under Verrocchio. A few months ago, he acquired a young white eagle and she found a white crow a few weeks ago. He cared for the crow until it was old enough and flew out, he had been following me ever since.”

An unreadable expression flashed over Mr. Auditore’s face, but he kept smiling on and the promise of a proper meeting was exchanged before all went on their merry way.

 

* * *

 

At first Penelope thought it was a fluke. But for the third night in a row her instincts were tingling. It wasn’t danger per se but there was someone stalking the shop. She switched the vision to make sure that she saw everything in the dark and didn’t nock something over on her way to the small window in the roof that was kept unlocked for her.

Outside half hidden behind a chimney was a golden figure covered in blue streaks. Before he or she could disappear, she flew over and sat onto the chimney.

Her breath hitched. The Vision has gone dormant again, but the robes of this person were unmistakable. More layers, more decoration than Altair had ever worn, but with the white hood and the red belt – those were the robes of a Master Assassin.


	12. Do you like Chiara? (3/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings from the ocean; you lovely people I managed to finish a chap for you 😊.  
> I passed my car-theory-exam (barely but who looks that closely) but still, I’ll propably be needing more time for the next chaps.  
> (Self-beta'd)

It was an elusive bird.  
Since days – or nights to be exact, after all he couldn’t just leave the house as an Assassin while his children were awake – Giovanni tried to spot the white eagle living in the household of the artist Verrocchio.

Every time his heart was hammering in excitement. He hopefully wasn’t wrong regarding the bird and it was more than an albino. To at least _see_ a legendary Masayaf Eagle was a dream he carried since his teenage years, ever since his father pulled him aside and initiated him into the secrets of the Brotherhood. His father told him the stories of the great Altair Ibn-la’Ahad in the light of the fireplace but the stories of the time before the Legend became Grandmaster intrigued him the most.

Risha – how could a bird be so intelligent? Giovanni had doubts most of the time but then his sweet, sweet wife, only aware of facts about his true calling that were absolutely necessary so they could function as couple, found a page of Altair’s Codex and _stole_ it for him, just like that on a dinner party. It was the second page the Brotherhood knew the whereabouts of. It had taken him more than five months of headache filled nights as well as excessive help from his brothers to decipher its content. Between the instructions for bird weapons were the praises from the Master about his eagle, little tid-bits that convinced him that Risha had existed and had been as intelligent as stories claimed her to be.

After that started a personal hunt of his to find out more. Giovanni searched through the oldest records from the Brotherhood he could get his hands on and read until his head swam. Since the beginning of records Assassins took eagles and other predatory birds as hunting buddies but Risha was the first one in white. Some other birds in all-white were mentioned after her, for example a gull, a crane and even a hummingbird - all showed signs of heightened intelligence - but none reached to the likes of Risha.

And that’s why he was here now. Trying to find glimpses of a white eagle between the closed-up windows while hoping his dream wouldn’t shatter at reality.

He couldn’t get closer, one in the household was always up and would probably notice him. Artist were trained to find details and pattern – a fifty-fifty chance that they could spot him without even trying.

Giovanni braced one hand against the chimney at his side and closed his eyes.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Shutting down his racing thoughts until he sunk into that calm spot inside of him where nothing mattered.

Then he opened his eyes.

The world around him was sharper, more nooks and edges visible despite the dark of the night. The very soft hue of gold that had surrounded the house was gone, his target had to be elsewhere.

What didn’t seem like much was his greatest pride after his children. There had been generations of Assassins rich of people able to use the _Eagle Vision_ and some that had only a few but in the resent ones the number went down more and more until it was basically extinct. Giovanni knew that La Volpe could access it subconsciously, but he himself was one of the last remaining people able to switch vision by pure will even if it was fairly weak. Nobody was sure if it was a trait specific to family lines or if it was something that was dormant in everyone – it was too irregular to tell.

The fluttering of wings stopped his musings and he looked up to the end of the chimney.

Brilliant green, stronger that he had ever experienced, sat in his vision. It was as if it opened a whole new world for him. His eyes darted left and right his mind barely catching up with what was happening. Everything was still black and white but rich with details as if he stood right in front of those things in broad daylight. There were gray sludges where the people inside of their houses where and another green sludge in the direction his family was. In comparison to that, he had been _blind_ before!

Overwhelmed by the new input he fell on his knees, not registering the surprised squeak above him. A gentle weight settled into his lap, this weight pulling his hood down further and filled his Vision green. Being the only thing he saw now, it made it easy to concentrate on until he was calm enough to switch his sight back.

In his lap was an eagle, its white feathers glittering in the moonlight with a thin band around its neck. The wings were spread wide over his head, blocking out the world around him.

Giovanni could barely believe it: a Masayaf Eagle!

The beak as well as the legs were grey, and the eyes colored as if they were molten gold – it wasn’t an albino! A Masayaf Eagle. An eagle with white plumage but oversized compared to any other kind of eagle.

A disbelieving chuckle left him. The predator pulled his wings back and waited for a reaction from him. Or it was as clueless as he was.

How was he supposed to act now!

The bell tower rang in the distance reminding him of the time. He had to go home or risk tumbling over either his house staff who stood up very early to prepare everything or wake one of his children who could oversleep an apocalypse but not if somebody tried to sneak past their doors.

His head turned back and forth between the magnificent creature on his lap and the direction of his home. The bird must’ve guessed what was on his mind. It stepped off him onto the roof, nudging him to stand up. It opened its wings again and plugged a feather out. With shaking hands he received the gift which was as long as his lower arm. The eagle rubbed his head once more against him and flew off, back to Verrocchio’s house, going inside through a tiny roof window.

Giovanni couldn’t stop staring at the feather in his hand, he couldn’t wait to tell it Mario!

 

* * *

 

The strange Assassin incident didn’t change a thing in the daily routine of Penelope. Utilizing the gossip-mill she got to know that one or two white-hooded people ran around every odd night but things like Assassins, Brotherhood or Templar Order were foreign words to the doves.

Now, that it had been brought to her attention she wanted to know how the Assassins fared and if and how they stopped the Templars. Where Assassins only around because they weren’t stopped? Where the Assassin’s still the same as they had been? Where the ideals still the same? What had happed after her deep-sleep-disappearance?

She couldn’t find the answers.

Even if she would’ve searched and found Giovanni who basically worshiped her, they didn’t understand each other. After stalking him in return Penelope knew that Assassin wasn’t his full-time occupation. He had a respected job, wife and children. Giovanni could be seen in public without people associating him with a deadly blade.

She turned away from him concerning answers – from what she saw he could take care of himself and his own and had nothing that would help her further.

Penelope beat herself up about it for two weeks, three weeks, a month but slowly the question settled back into her deepest mind once more. She saw a glimpse of the Assassin she had met and the shade of another but that was as far as interaction with the Brotherhood went. It didn’t seem to be a pressing issue.

She really liked Leo. Such a kindhearted soul should be far away from an Assassin’s life – even if it seemed to be less intense now as it was in Altair’s time. Kadar would’ve loved him.

When the blonde was skipping, nearly dancing, though the shop sprouting ideas out into the world, she couldn’t help herself and smile alongside him. A precious cinnamon roll that required protection.

And how he needed it.

 

* * *

 

“Come on join us Leonardo!”

The broad hand of the last employer came down between the teen’s shoulder blades, sending him nearly to the ground. Leonardo had just brought over the commission and stumbled into the aftermath of a birthday party. All minus Leonardo had at least some alcohol in their systems.

As he arrived a servant took the statue and brought it into the house, away from the drunken mass of people but as soon as his hands were empty a glass of wine was pressed into it and he got surrounded by some that were on their way to the bordello.

Mercilessly he got dragged along, no chance of declining the amicable meant offer. The slight panic in his eyes was obvious as they darted back and forth ever searching for a way out.  
Penelope wreaked havoc on her brain to find a solution that would neither hurt civilians nor out Leonardo as gay, bi – whatever, as not-as-currently-norm interested in women and more-interested-in-that-broad-backside.

As the group reached the front gate, already getting lured inside with the promise of fun and relaxation came her small flash of genius.

Flying as low as she dared to drop without a place to land on safely, she stopped moving her wings and crashed onto the pavement. It wasn’t painless but she cried out as pathetically as she could, trying to make it sound as if she just had been mortally injured. The screech stopped most in their tracks and turned their attention to her.

It gave Leonardo the time to slip away and ran to her. Her plan must’ve worked because the worry was written all across his pretty face. As the blonde’s backside hid her from the view of the group, she raised her head and winked at him before letting herself slack once more.

He caught on her play and picked her up, cradling her to his chest. Turning to the group he excused himself and ran home. From behind them they just heard an:

“Awww, maybe next time.”

Even if they could’ve stopped, Leo continued running through the alleys of night-time Florence. He sometimes caught his foot in an uneven stone or lost balance while turning around narrow corners, but he ran on and on and on until he reached his home door.

Leonardo hadn’t let go of her and she could hear his heart pumping in his chest. With shaking hands, he reached for the doorknob and walked inside. A few candles were still lit so Andrea was probably still awake, but he sneaked through the shop upstairs. The other apprentices were all already asleep, snoring safe and soundly in their beds but he went straight to his.

Penelope got placed onto the blanked and was pulled up again in a bundle of blanket and pillow. Leo continued on tiptoes to the ladder that would lead them to the roof. It took a few tries until he managed to climb with one arm occupied but he managed the short distance.

With a creak the window was open and the teen outside. Luckily the roof wasn’t too dirty and the summer night warm because he made himself comfortable beside the chimney. With her in his arms he laid on his side against it staring up to the moon.

“Am I a freak to find attractiveness in men not women?”

Leonardo was sniveling quietly, but his tears ran like rivers down his cheeks. With her body immobile she couldn’t wipe away his tears, but she could sing. Leo had taught her after all. Operas or highly difficult songs were out of question but something simple – that she could do.

Neither of her parents had been good singers nor did she remember ever getting one sung for her, she had an abundance of music boxes but there was one melody she had picked up in the Gardens of Masayaf. She had never known that particular Guard personally but when he laid in the arms of his woman, she sung for him. It was the time of night were the whole of the castle tried to be as silent as possible so her song could be carried through the stone halls until it had reached everywhere.

And she shared that melody with Leonardo. She chirped and thrilled until slow and even breathes brushed over her feather. Only then she stopped.

The roof window creaked, and Andrea’s shock of hair peaked out. A blanket and a pillow were pushed outside before the artists body came out.

Then came another bundle of blanket and pillow was thrown outside and Piero crawled out behind it.

And another bundle.

It continued until everyone was outside. Andrea sat to Leonardo’s head and pulled it into his lap – the boy did nothing more than a huff and the others huddled around.

After a particularly loud sneeze from Domenico Leo’s eyes blinked awake. As he realized his position his head shot up, but his teacher caught him with gentle hands and eased him down again before brushing the half-dried tears and hair away.

“I wanted to tell the others about the stars, do you want to listen?”

Leonardo nodded and the body pile shuffled closer together, using each other as pillows.

“This is the constellation of the Eagle, the brightest star being Altair…”

Leo never had to explain why he had been crying on the roof that night.

 

* * *

 

With a heavy heart she looked at the red band that laid at her feet. She had been wearing it constantly and now she broke it as her claw was caught in it while she had tried to scratch the itch at the back of her head.

“What is it Chiara?”

Leo had found her and looked at what she was staring. A soft exclamation of _oh_ left his mouth and she was pulled into an embrace.

She felt a bit numb inside. It had reminded her of her time before Italy. She didn’t want to forget it. Already had she problems to find the details in her memories of Masayaf.

The days afterwards Leo was occupied, and she got passed around to the other household members. Model here, get some doves to pose for them, check if there was a specific color currently sold on the market so there hadn’t to be made an extra way if it wasn’t.

Approximately a week later Leo shook her gently to wake her from her mid-day nap.

“Hey, wake up. I’ve got something for you.”

Blinking away the sleep from her eyes she stood up and puffed her feathers to straighten them. After a hearty yawn she looked at what Leonardo held in his hand.

A red band.

It was a bit wider and thicker with black swirls stitched upon it. And unlike the last one it could be opened and closed with a silver clasp.

The present took away her breath.

“We long passed your guessed birthday and the date we found each other but it’s a belated anniversary present. For you.”

Leonardo had a wide smile on his face, and she could only come near slowly struck by awe. The teen fastened it around her neck and carried her to her nest where he pulled out the broken band and laid it inside before transporting her to the small mirror they had hanging on the wall.

She loved it immensely and gave this feedback with an enthusiastic hug, making Leo laugh out loud.

 

* * *

 

“Leo you outdid yourself!”

Penelope had no clue how it started but her feathers recently turned into a temporary canvas. Most of the times she was covered in a plethora of colors and was then used as a model but today Leonardo only used blood-red. After laying her band carefully into her nest, he painted intricate lines all over her, reminding her of a circuit board. It made her feel pretty.

She tuned in various angles to see everything of herself as Leonardo cried out for her to stop.

Frozen in place with half-opened wings she looked as if she would dance.

It was gruesome to keep the position until Leo had everything he needed to sketch down but the resulting painting was totally worth the effort. It was vibrant, full of dynamic and probably the best he had made so far.

For once Leo was proud of himself and true confidence reflected in his posture as he made his way into Andrea’s study where the Master was currently sorting through some letters.

Andrea put his things aside and inspected the work.

“You did it.”

Confused Leo looked at his teacher and asked nonverbal for further explanation.

“You came to me with your work, positive that you’ve done it right. You gave your work value and did not only see it as something far below mine. Art has no wrong or right Leonardo. Use that confidence because from today on you are not only a _studio boy_ looking over my shoulder. Today I officially declare you my apprentice to the public – not that everyone doubted that you were anything less in the last few years.”

Whooping and cheering Sandro, Piero and Domenico busted inside, embracing the youngest who could only endure it still shock-stiff. As the three finally pulled back it seeped through to him.

Leonardo let out a cheer on his own and clumsily pulled everyone back into a hug.

Now he was allowed to sell his work and have a look out for commissions himself and – in a few years’ time – maybe call himself a master of arts.

 

* * *

 

“What got you this riled up Lorenzo?”

Leonardo was currently visiting the Medici for a nice evening tea, but something bothered him so much that he was pacing back and forth, barely keeping his cup from spilling over.

“It’s my father, illness has caught him yet again and a good friend of mine is out of town and that far longer that he should. I’ve got an important message for him but no way of contacting him.”

Message?

Penelope turned away from her musings with Fernando who had settled in nicely as the pampered house-pet of the Medici family and gave more attention to the discussion. It had been quite a long time since she truly stretched her wings. Maybe she could help.

But how should she tell it those two who only looked at her confused as she flew over and landed chirping between them? Looking around she found a rolled-up paper on a nearby desk. She snatched it, hearing the loud protest of Lorenzo but landed on the windowsill, half-leaning outside continuously flapping her wings in an imitation of flying away.

It was Leonardo, more in tune with her behavior who deciphered after a bit of guesswork what she wanted to express.

“Chiara wants to deliver your message.”

“She can do that?”

“I…guess so. Where would it have to go?”

“My friend said he would visit his brother in Monteriggioni, I have no clue where he could be between here and there.”

Silence stretched between the two. Both clearly thinking much and hard.

“I could make a copy and we try if she manages it?”

“Sounds alright? That ok Chiara?”

She trilled affirmatively.

Lorenzo quickly made a copy of his original message and sealed it. After that came the next obstacle: how should she transport it.

The two couldn’t know her history but she refused to get the message bound around her ankle and stretched her neck out towards them. After a bit of shuffling Lorenzo got a cord and fixated the message by looping it through her band and binding it around her belly

More awkward silence arose.

Not taking it, she affectionately brushed against Leonardo and squeaked a goodbye to Lorenzo before taking off through the window. Only with half an ear she heard Lorenzo’s question behind her.

“Does she even know the way?”

~*~

It was nice to fly again, and the land surrounding Florence with his green fields and lush forests had even more that she could watch than the rather dry acres in the area of Masayaf’s rule.

With the Eagle Vision under full control she had no trouble finding her way to her objective despite never being there before or knowing to whom it truly went other than that it was a friend of Lorenzo. Penelope only stopping for a little snack of a rat she caught on her way.  
It was early morning as she spotted large defensive walls on the horizon that quickly grew larger.

Monteriggioni was not poor nor was it wealthy. From what she could see it was a rather small community that made do with a notable number of houses being unoccupied. Her instinct led her to the villa settled a bit above the town. It was grand but had seen better days just as the city itself.

Landing on a windowsill she looked inside of a warmly decorated bedroom, her golden highlighted target still asleep. But that would change in a second.

The door to the room was thrown open with an ear-shattering crash and a scruffy looking man strut inside with a wide grin on his face and a plate in his hand.

“Good morning brother, a wonderful day outside. Are you already awake?”

The glee was obvious in his voice. Parallel to that the brother shot out of his bed before hissing in pain, holding his bandaged chest.

“Mario! Was that really necessary?!”

“Then don’t sleep that long.”

Finally, the two noticed her in the window and she recognized the man in the bed – he was no other that Giovanni Auditore.

“I am not seeing things brother, am I?”

“No, you’re not or I am too. Why is the Masayaf Eagle here?”

She rolled her eyes at the two and came inside, landing on the end of the bed presenting the message around her neck. Giovanni sat up further and took it off.

“Why would Leonardo-,” he stocked as he saw the seal, “it’s Lorenzo.”

Now curious too the older brother sat down beside his brother to see the message. Its seal now broken, and the paper unfurled.

“He’s a bit late but I appreciate it.”

None of the brother’s explained further and she had to sneak a peak as they allowed her to have something of their breakfast.

Lorenzo had tried to warn him of a possible ambush. Because it came too late now, he had walked inside and came out hurt but alive thanks to his brother who had ridden towards him to greet him.

In the evening after Giovanni had written a reply and she had a nap; she was sent back with the message containing the Assassin’s thanks and the customary well-wishes.

She did not understand why something inside of her wanted to stay in that town.

 

* * *

 

The two brothers looked after the retreating silhouette of Chiara – her name was mentioned in the message.

Mario, seeing her for the first time up-close in daylight, turned to his younger brother.

“You were right. The alikeness is uncanny. As if she were the statue coming to life.”

“It seams like yesterday that we sneaked through father’s study finding the passageway by accident.”

“Don’t tell me it was an accident; you have the _sight_.”

Unlike Giovanni, Mario never showed even a single side-trade of the gift. He never knew if his brother was envious or resented him a bit for it, but Giovanni was afraid of his answer – so he never asked the question.

But thinking of old times reminded him of another matter – his true reason for riding out of Florence, leaving the rest of his family behind before falling into an ambush.

“Brother, I think it is time to ease Federico into the ways of the Assassins – he is already questioning why I try to have him running and jumping all around and he is suspicious too of me climbing alongside him to the highest roofs despite being in an age the average man starts to grow weary and short of breath.”

“Your kid, your decision.”

“Could’ve had some of your own. They turn your whole world upside down.”

“No, thank you.”

Having-children, having-no-children was an age-old discussion between the two. Mario just couldn’t warm up to the thought of caring for a crying infant and having to protect it, teach it until it was old enough to leave the house and even then he would have to worry permanently for it because it was his own flesh and blood – he worried over Giovanni more than enough to last him three lifetimes.

Own children were a no-go for him and he has no permanent partner that would be needed to create a child with a stable childhood. Temporary company for the night was easy – just as the rest of his family he had the Auditore-charm no woman could resist – but not only did he found no one, Mario didn’t want the responsibility connected to wife and children too.

Giovanni had tried to convince him otherwise on multiple occasions – he made a fine uncle after all– but now it was just meant as a little bit of teasing. He would have to care for Federico when his father had to return home after bringing him here. Federico would be as close as an own child he would get. Then Ezio, then Petruccio and maybe even Claudia. But girls were more complex than boys. Give a boy a sword and freedom an he was happy, girls they were delicate and needed tons of things to keep them happy and occupied.

Mario then crossed a random thought from no-where.

“Does Chiara know of the Assassins and Templars? Is she a Masayaf Eagle because she is not an albino and Altair was the first to mention her kind or is she a Masayaf Eagle because like Risha who had understood the ancient power-struggle and knew what it meant to live by the Creed,  Chiara knows it too?”

“What was first the chicken or the egg? But it’s an interesting question. However, how should she know about it?”

“How long has she been under that blonde teen’s care?”

“That my dear brother, I don’t know.”

They turned from the window, the older helping the younger back inside the bed without pulling stitches. Wishing Giovanni a good night, he walked into the next room and used the shortcut to the study by jumping over the railing – stairs and ladders were not meant for Assassin’s.

His desk was a mess.

Loud groaning he wandered over but stopped in his tracks as he saw what exactly was on his desk. Black ink-spots were splattered everywhere, the picture messy and the still wet pet laid beside it but on the paper was unmistakably a crudely drawn Assassin insignia.

“GIOVANNI!”


	13. What a dream?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually just wanted to distract myself because my head started to hurt from all the stuff I tied to press into it…whelp, just finished the rest of a chap I am really excited to see your reactions to.  
> It’s another milestone too, breached the 50k+ words. Now it’s the longest one I’ve ever did and there is no stopping soon.  
> (self-beta'd)

Groaning silently Desmond carried the small and still locked chest into the Sanctuary. Knowing that the others would’ve disapproved of him roaming around the upper parts of the house during the day he just had followed in the footsteps of Altair’s ghostly mist. The Master Assassin of old had led him quietly past the backs of Shaun and Rebecca who were ingulfed in their tasks while Lucy was getting a new hoard of instant-noodles and water. On the half-broken stairs Ezio waved his hand to him from the top and he disappeared with his sister behind the wooden door that hung crooked in the frame.

Lead by boredom and struck by curiosity he followed the bleeding images. Effortless the remains of the door were heaved out of the hinges and laid besides to make as little sound as possible; inside of the empty room was something in the back of his mind tingling annoyingly.

It wasn’t the stern personality of Altair or the currently still small devilish mirth of Ezio, who would probably grow larger too – maybe larger than Altair as he now laid longer times and more frequent in the Animus even if he got more and slightly longer breaks because the others feared he would shatter like 16.

One couldn’t shatter if one never was whole to begin with, but Desmond just hoped to stay relatively sane until everything required was done and Penelope’s disappearance resolved.

During his musings the Eagle Vision activated, ceasing the tingling, and marked one of the floor-planks golden.

Shrugging his shoulders, he pulled it aside and was greeted by a stone-floor, with one golden marked stone. It took a bit of wiggling to get his fingers in the thin clefts around it but then he pulled it out. And below the fist-thick stone was wood again. But that was part of a box, not another floor.

And ho and behold the box was golden too.

Not wanting to get caught with his hand in the cookie-jar Desmond got it out and sneaked the reversed way back into the Sanctuary.

Quick as a mouse he darted behind Altair’s eagle bearing statue and past Ezio cuddling with an eagle. Eagles. Or birds in general were an Assassin’s best friend. It was maybe his only regret as he ran away that he couldn’t continue feeding old Olly, the whitest eagle Assassin’s had found in the last fifty years and the closest thing he had to a friend.

None of the other two in the room even raised an eyebrow because of his behavior.

Sparing a last glance at them he let his hidden blade spring free and made short process with the old lock. Inside were feathers.

Small feathers filled high up to the lid.

He stuck his hand inside, looking if there was something else and caught a paper roll by the feeling of it. And he was right.

As he got it out and unfurled it another feather landed on his lap, only this one was significantly larger – as long as his lower arm – and stark white.

His skin touched it and his whole vision was engulfed in blinding light.

 

* * *

 

As Desmond reclaimed consciousness he was laying back-down in a field of high growing wheat, the sky over him filled with dot-formed rainclouds in the distance.

Other than the obviously different location nothing in him registered danger and still – something was different.

There was no wind.

And he was himself. Neither Ezio nor Altair were pressing into his mind. That fact alone let him relax on the surprisingly flat ground, relieved to be rid of the constant pressure for a sacred few moments.

But he still wasn’t in the Sanctuary, so he stood up and brushed over his jeans.

As far as he could look only wheat. From one side to the other. In front of him and behind him as well.

Not knowing what else to do he called into the quietness.

“Hello? Somebody here?”

Ah childish _oh_ sounded somewhere behind him followed by the rustling of plants. A boy, barely reaching over the field with his sunkissed-brown chest, emerged. The hair on his head was black, formed in nearly dreadlock like curls and the only thing kind-of covering his torso were a variety of necklaces.

“Hi stranger, who are you?”

“Desmond.”

“ _Deh-mund_?”

“Des-mond.”

“ _Dez-mund_?”

“Close enough.”

Laughing the boy made his way over to Desmond.

“You are dressed strangely Dezmund. Where are you from?”

“New York.”

“Where is Nu Jork? I never heard of it. Is it upper or lower Egypt?”

Desmond wasn’t sure what to think. If the boy guessed that New York was some part of Egypt it probably was his homeland and the only thing he knew. He went with a vague answer.

“It’s a bit further out. Do you know where we are?”

The question seemed to puzzle the boy.

“How do you not know? Ma’at deemed your Ka light and allowed you into the Field of Reeds. You’re the second one to ask me that.”

“Who was the first?”

“A man in long blue robes and short hair, kept on ranting about a someone, didn’t want to interrupt him”

The description sounded eerily like Malik. Desmond knew of nothing to continue the conversation, but the boy did it for him.

“I am waiting for my Papo. Will you wait with me? The other man was off before I could ask him.”

Having nothing better to do he decided to stay with him for the time being. With a few strong stomps a small circle was made on the ground where the two could sit down and see each other without green in the way.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

Was there even someone who would miss him and not the fact that he left work behind?

“I…I don’t think that anyone would largely miss me, so I guess there is nobody I could wait for.”

“That’s so sad!” the boy shuffled over and pulled him into a hug, “Now, I would miss you Dezmund. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Those simple words nearly brought him to tears, and he hugged the boy back to hide the tell-tale shine in his eyes. Desmond hadn’t understood what the boy had meant by the field of reeds and was with that none the wiser about his whereabouts, but he felt at …peace with the smaller, warmer presence in his arms. How long has it been since somebody hugged him and meant it?

He needed to think and the little snack-bar he had snatched yesterday was pressing into his hip.

“Say, do you like chocolate?”

Curious brown pools looked up to him.

“What is _cho-clad_?”

Who didn’t know chocolate? Desmond sat back to make a bit of space between them and got the bar out of his pocket, de-wrapped it and offered half of it to the boy.

Curious hands grabbed it and it was sighted from all angles.

“Don’t hold it too long or it melts.”

After that it got shoved completely into the young’s mouths and his eyes lit up.

“A wuve vocol-d!”

Desmond chuckled at the display of happy childishness and took only a bite of his half before offering it too to the boy who had quickly swallowed his own piece. The next one was eaten slower, but it was still gone within seconds.

“Thank you _sooooo_ much Dezmund!”

After a bit of running around through the field the boy settled at his side, his head against Desmond’s tight.

“You know my father is a Medjay…”

The boy started to talk about his mother and father until his eyes started to drop. After a large yawn his breathing evened out and left Desmond alone with his thoughts.

He wished he could talk about his own parents as fondly as the boy did of his. It sounded like a happy childhood. Desmond only associated cold and dull and pain with the farm.

In the end, Desmond had to go back even if he felt comfortable wherever _here_ was. As much as he disliked what he had to do – it had to be done. After the boy – he should’ve asked for a name – shivered for the third time he carefully maneuvered out of his hoodie and laid it over the bare shoulders.

He got a smile and an even closer curled up youth beside him.

There was something.

Desmond tried to stretch his head as much as he could to maybe see what it was.

He could’ve sworn that somebody just called his name that sounded suspiciously like a stressed-out Brit.

Awakening came like a sledgehammer.

 

* * *

 

“You bloody git. Wake! **UP**!”

Desmond sat still behind the statue of Altair in the Sanctuary with the box of feathers now toppled over on his lap and Shaun had just woke him up by violently shaking his shoulders.

“Where did you get all those feathers?!”

“In this box.”

“Don’t tell me you wandered around in the house.”

“Then I won’t.”

“ _Desmond Miles_. Was there at least something else inside than those?”

He held up the paper that was still in his right hand.

“ _Nice_ , a badly drawn Assassin insignia. Really nice. Now get your buttocks back to the Animus, Rebecca has finished her update.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The Brit stormed off and left Desmond alone once more. As he stood up, he noticed that he only wore his black undershirt and his hoodie was missing and in extension his chocolate bar. By looking around he deducted that Lucy wasn’t back.

And he was hungry.

_“Malik makes the best soup.”_

That the ghost-voice of Altair spoke of his secret favorite dish didn’t help to diminish his hunger.

Before making his way over to Baby he made a stop at Shaun’s desk.

“Could you look something up for me?”

“What now?!”

Annoyance was dripping in Shaun’s voice, but he backtracked a little as he saw that Desmond truly meant his request.

“Ok, _ok_. What is it this time?”

“In combination with Egypt: Medjaj, Kaa, Mat and fields of reeds.”

“Is that all?”

Desmond nodded and left the other alone. Rebecca was already waiting for him. She seemed to be the only one who had at least a bit of fun with her job.

_Ahoy_ for another round of Animus.

 

* * *

 

Finally sating his hunger on two packs of instant noodles Desmond mused over the notes Shaun got him.

_Ancient Egyptians believed in an afterlife – the Duat. The Field of Reeds, also known as Aaru, was the final destination only reached by those worthy. The Ka of a person, a crude equivalent would be the soul, was weighted against a feather by the goddess Ma’at and if it was lighter one had led a good and fair life and was worthy of a peaceful afterlife. I don’t know how that should’ve worked.  
And Medjay were kinda a police-force under the orders of the pharaoh._

After the short summary came quite many articles filled with details to life in Ancient Egypt and its believes. But Desmond was tired and desperately needed sleep.

His hoodie was still gone without a trace, and the feather as well.  
That the strange dream felt like it had been real and both things couldn’t be found made for an unsettling train of thought.  
Another problem to be solved after sleep.

 

* * *

 

Shaun was currently sorting through the data left behind in the Animus by 16 as a mail new popped up. Reading through the content, he sighed and rolled with his chair a bit back to get sight-contact with Lucy and Rebecca.

“Hey, you two, has anyone of you tried to hack into the Abstergo-webside the last few days?”

Both girls denied.

“Why are you asking.”

“Someone is currently at it and is just short of triggering a server-sweep and lockdown. Upstairs they try to find out if it is one of our men or if there is a third party. Attached was the order to retreat out of the systems if there are any fingers of us still inside so they won’t be found if the sweep is triggered.”

“Ok?”

 

* * *

 

“Desmond, can you hear me?”

“Yeah, why isn’t the memory loading?”

Surrounded by the vast-mirror space of the Animus loading screen, Desmond didn’t know what kept him from going inside the next memory sequence. He was calm, felt alright and he even wanted to go into the next sequence – he couldn’t be the interference and wanted to know what was happening with Ezio’s family after the evidence had been delivered.

“Hmm, I can’t seem find the problem. I load an older one, maybe it’ll ease you into it. Wait a second…this one looks ok. Here you go.”

Around him the new memory took shape. It was surprising for Desmond how far they had gone back in Ezio’s life – not only one or two years, by the looks of it the Italian was nine – maybe? He could barely look over the windowsill without having to climb onto something.

“Pretty bird, fluffy bird~.”

The Auditore was skipping through his room with a white down feather in his hand. The child’s singsong was interrupted however as the feather started to glow.

Brighter and brighter until it was blinding.

.

.

.

Ezio expression of pure awe was the first thing that came afterwards. They – Ezio – was standing on a small patch of half-grown wheat plants. Surrounding him was seemingly nothing with sunset-colored clouds all around. There were other wheat-patches too, looking as if they had been copy-pasted.

“Rebecca did something go wrong?”

"…"

There was no answer from the other side of the Animus. Meanwhile little Ezio started exploring. Desmond would’ve scolded him immensely if he truly had been beside him as the boy started to stretch his foot over his little standing spot and move it downward.

Come to think of it, it reminded him of his dream from yesterday it just looked less…whole.

Ezio found out that he could step on nothing at the same height of his patch as if there was an invisible floor. Recklessly and laughing he ran off with his arms spread wide crying:

“I FLY!”

Out into the world.

Desmond could do nothing else than tag along and wonder over and over about the validity of this _dream_ and if it was true, how Ezio could’ve been so careless. After a while glass-shard like forms started to appear not unlike the Animus-loading screen replacing the plants but the boy continued driven by curiosity.

“Somebody here?! Hello? ANYBODY _PLEASE_!”

A familiar voice – an Altair familiar voice – shouted in the distance. Continuing his reckless streak Ezio answered, cupping his hands around his mouth to sound even louder.

“Over he-ere!”

The two kept on calling out to each other in the ever greyer turning environment. It was a small dot on the horizon at first but then it grew larger, faster than a running person should.

Desmond recognized the other as soon as he could see details and he couldn’t stop the aching and hurt in his chest despite it not being truly his own feeling. It crashed greatly with the happy vibes he got from Ezio.

But running towards them, him, in a dirty-white shirt and darker trousers was no other than Kadar Al-Sayif.

The teens hair was disheveled and his eyes red and puffy from crying but there was no mistaken it that is was the younger brother of Altair’s best friend.

Ezio had his hand raised in a greeting but the Masayaf-boy barreled into him, his arms coming around in a hug. The younger one was obviously confused as to why the – to him – stranger was cuddling him as if his life depended on it. He opted for awkwardly patting the back.

“T-There was nobody…NOBODY!” Kadar was openly sobbing, “I called and cried – my brother just gone! But…but thank GOD…not alone…not _alone_.”

“Hello to you…?”

Finally realizing what he had done Kadar lowered Ezio to the ground and whipped through his snot-filled face but hovered as close as possible.

“K-Kadar.”

“Kadar, ok. How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know. I don’t KNOW! Just white and grey and white and grey...”

“Over there had been colorful, you could walk on _clouds_ ,” Ezio pointed vaguely into the direction he came from. Seeing that the other was not really functional he gripped his wrist and pulled him after him. They started with a slow walk that developed into a jog until the two were straight-out running again.

“You just have to run a bit further now and you should see some plants”

Kadar nodded.

“I stay with you as lo-.”

Ezio woke up laying on the carpet in his nursery. In his hand a bit of golden dust that was gone as soon as he moved. Blinking owlishly the boy arranged his limbs and stood up. A few seconds of silence then he bellowed:

“MOTHER YOU WON’T BELIVE ME WHAT I JUST DREAMT!”

Storming loud stomping out of his room and down the stairs he searched for his mother. He found her knitting with Claudia and Petruccio in the yard.

“MOTHER-!”

“Lower your voice Ezio, we can hear you just fine.”

“But there was this boy…!”

The world around Desmond shattered and he was back to the normal Animus-loading screen.

.

.

.

“Desmond, you ok in there? We’ve lost you for a sec.”

“Ezio fell asleep.”

Everything turned dark and he felt the usual pressure of the Animus against his spine. Blinking to adjust to the artificial light in the Sanctuary Desmond got his bearings together and sat up. Rebecca had her hands against the armrest and looked at him expectantly.

“Did you see what Ezio dreamt? Please tell, I am curious what a boy in this time could dream about.”

“Eh…there was a field and he dreamt of flying.”

Finding it rather boring judging on the heavily censored version of what he truly saw Rebecca deflated a bit but kept on muttering that she needed to upgrade the Animus so they too would see what Ezio dreamt.  Nearly forgetting something she stopped in her tracks.

“Desmond, eat and take a nap. I’ll have Baby ready again in 2 hours max.”

He nodded numbly.

Desmond would have to process what he had seen. First it was a dream from him, the world a wheat field wherever one looked and inhabited by that Ancient Egyptian boy; secondly it was him seeing _Ezio_ dream of a world that looked like the beta version of what _he_ had seen featuring _Kadar_ of all things.

Fuck, he had a monster headache.


	14. Do you like Chiara? (4/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (self-beta'd)

Penelope had been home in record time; after delivering Giovanni’s answer she was welcomed warmly by Leonardo and accepted the hug full-heartedly.

Now she was sitting on the windowsill thinking about Monteriggioni over and over. Had she done the right thing, outing herself that way? When she was honest with herself, she had helped the Levantine Assassin’s because Altair had been one – that she agreed with the creed hadn’t been a very strong point of conviction for her. But Altair, as well as Malik, Kadar and Umar, Faheem – whoever. All men had stood proudly behind the Creed and were home in the Brotherhood. Penelope did it for them. If Assassin’s still were what they had been she couldn’t ignore them. She wanted to honor them.

So, she left a small sign when the older Auditore brothers were distracted; hopefully understandably enough that they understood that she knew what was going on and that she was available if the need arises.

“You’re still up?”

Quietly and thick with sleep Leonardo’s voice whispered in the darkness. After a few seconds he lifted arm and blanked, motioning her to sleep beside him.

Grateful she snuggled into the warmth.

 

* * *

 

Leonardo sat on a stool behind Andrea who was working on his newest commission while Chiara was posing for wing-reference.

Paintstoke for paintstoke _Tobias and the Angel_ started to come to life.

It had made him giddy with happiness that the Master had allowed him to paint Tobias’ hair while he parallel worked on the golden locks of the angel explaining how he did it along the way. Just there was a small thing. A really, really small thing.

One should really disregard it.

“Leo, stop fidgeting.”

“Yes Andrea.”

There was the fish that Tobias held. It looked like a fish no doubt, but the fish looked days old. Not fitting into the glory that should be in an altarpiece.

The older artist sighed and turned around to face his student.

“What is it, out with it.”

“It’s…nothing. If I’ll distract you, I’ll just go outside.”

“It can’t be nothing. As always just speak your mind.”

“It’s…the fish Master. He looks…dead.”

Andrea chuckled, used to Leonardo’s rather dodgy speaking-style while judging something, he understood what the boy wanted to tell him. The fish did not fit in the painting. He finished the layer on the angel’s wings, dismissed Chiara and pressed brush and color palette into the younger one’s hand.

“Breathe life into him.”

Leo couldn’t believe it and stared at the tools in his hand.

“I’ll be getting dinner alright?”

With those words his teacher was out of the house and Leonardo alone with the painting. Tentative he walked to the place that had been occupied before.

Chiara interrupted his thought as she flew onto the hatrack that by now groaned under her weight – she would need a replacement soon, it was only a matter of time until it wouldn’t hold her anymore. From this position however, she was close enough to reach out to him.

Her wingtip brushed gently over his head as if to say that everything was going to be fine.

Then she flew out of the window.

With now the mild feeling of panic he stood up and went on a search for anyone of his fellow apprentices, they were longer here than him – they should be able to help him.

He didn’t want to ruin the art piece.

There was no one on the same floor, the next floor in the garden or even the roof. Nobody!

The smaller dots on the palette started to dry out so he made his way back with a hammering heart. Leo checked the colors. He would need steel grey, white, bright blue, black and a few traces of other colors. All there. He stared at the painting in front of him until the colors started to merge into one soup.

A chirp sounded and he looked up hopefully.

Dripping wet Chiara sat on the windowsill with a freshly hunted fish in her beak.

He smiled at that, it was endearing and somewhat a relieve. A pause from his own spiral of thoughts. Quickly he got a plate out of the kitchen as well as a towel.

The fish went onto the plate and was placed onto the nearby table, Chiara was wrapped up in the towel and placed on his lap. Her soft trilling kept him from going to deep into his worries.

Now Leonardo had a reference, he could do it!

Barely suppressing the tremor in his hand, he dipped the brush into the paint and started working.

Paintstoke after paintstoke.

He nearly missed that the world outside started to be dipped into the sunset’s red. Only then did Andrea return home with a chuckle in his voice.

“I said you should _paint_ a fish not imitate the _smell_.”

“I got a reference.”

 

* * *

 

Penelope found Leonardo sitting on his bed with a letter in his hands. His eyebrows were drawn together as if he wasn’t sure how to react to what he read.

Because she was currently on the floor, she wobbled over and brushed against the artist’s leg. She got a pet on her head as an answer before the hand grabbed below her belly, heaving her up onto his lap where he continued brushing. As nice as it felt Penelope wanted to know what was going on in that brilliant mind of his.

She had to stretch quite a bit but managed to tip her beak against the letter.

Leonardo managed a thin smile.

“It’s my father, asked when I would visit him again.”

That sounded…not too bad actually. But then again, she didn’t know how the two stood to each other. The only parent-child relationships she could observe closely had been perfect for their circumstances, and those two were her own with her parents and Altair with Alab. But Penelope got her explanation.

“It’s not that he is cruel or anything we just… I haven’t seen him personally in _years_. He made sure after all that I am well taken care off despite me being out of wedlock. He could’ve just totally ignored me. But he feels more like a friendly acquaintance than a father… Andrea feels more like my father.”

Oh, that sweet cinnamon roll. Cooing she stood up and opened her wings protectively over her friend who then muzzled his face against her.

“Come with me?”

She gave him an affirmative nod.

~*~

Both of them cleaned up nicely so now Leonardo stood with Chiara on his leather-clad arm in front of his father’s home. He plucked nervously at the hem of his tunic, straightened the bag over his shoulder and took a deep breath.

He first hesitated a moment in front of the wood, but he took a heart and knocked; it was only his father and he was only making sure that he was alright.

The scraping of a stood was heard followed by steps that came towards the door. By now he heard his own heart beating in his chest. After all these years with the only contact being letters, despite him living only at the other end of the city, it was hard to imagine how his father had changed.

The door opened and in front of him was a familiar man that he shared height and coloration with. There weren’t so many things different, more wrinkles in his face and the very first hues of white in his hair but it was still the same man that he remembered.

Hesitantly he stepped a foot forward.

“Hello Father.”

“Hello Leonardo.”

With a step to the side Piero let his son inside and led him to the dining table. Through the next doorway was the kitchen visible where Francesca was buzzing around. Another person he had little attachment to. The dark-haired woman was friendly and his step-mother but yeah…he never really interacted with her after his father had married her.

“I hope it’s not too much trouble that I brought Chiara with me, she would’ve followed me regardless.”

Piero drew his brows together, unsure how to answer. He took a look at his bird and sighed softly.

“I suppose as long as nothing gets broken. What kind of eagle is this white?”

Copying his father’s moves he sat down at the table and helped Chiara to sit on the backrest.

“I am not sure, I found her by chance. Asked Mr. Verrocchio too, she’s most likely a Masayaf Eagle.”

Clearly his father never heard of Masayaf, not that he did before meeting Chiara. After a few awkward minutes the two started with the normal pleasantries like, _how are you_ or _what are you currently working on_.

Leonardo was currently working on catching the eye of the Guild of Saint Luke to get his Master title, but there was little process to far.

And at the end of the evening Leonardo went relieved home. Nothing was wrong, no argument or anything. Just a day with his blood-father who wanted to know how he was faring.

He came out of the bath as he noticed Chiara’s trembling, if he didn’t know better, he would say that she was crying even though birds don’t shed tears. Leonardo knew of nothing that could’ve been a reason to be sad. Concerned he picked her up and cradled her. Swayed her gently back and forth while humming vaguely the melody she had once trilled for him.

Leonardo continued for a bit longer even as Chiara fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Since an hour Penelope sat on a high roof overlooking the market. Her eyes were on the stall of a cloth merchant. To be more precise on the red beret than was half-hidden behind a small tower of carpets.

The classic picture she had in her mind of Leonardo da Vinci always wore a beret. But Leo did not even have one. She wanted to change that.

During the last four years she managed to collect her own hoard of Florin; people always lost some coins here and there or dropped surprisingly many of them into the water. Fishing had become one of her favorite past-times since she fished once to get Leo a reference. She always brought her catch home, so it wasn’t unusual for the Verrocchio household to have fish for dinner – in response to her catching fresh fish Leo learned various ways on how to prepare fish to get more variety in their meals. And during those water-dives she saw the shiny coins at the bottom of the water. And expanded the little hoard under her nest more and more from which she now had bundled a few up in a makeshift pouch so she could pay.

But she was a _bird_.

How does a bird can buy something?

Her hunger did nothing to help her mood and after another hour she said _fuck it_. During the midday heat, when the sun was the highest and the number of visitors and buyers the lowest, she sailed down and landed with one claw on the carpets, holding her pouch in the other. The merchant looked just short of yelling at her, what he then did as she grabbed the beret.

Penelope threw the pouch in his direction and the merchant ceased his yelling as he heard the telltale sound of money. Astonished he snatched it away and unwrapped the Florin-packet. As he started counting with wide eyes, she hoped it was the appropriate amount to cover the expenses and flew away. After all this time she had no clue how much her money was worth – not that she had many chances to acquire something.

Penelope found Leonardo dozing in the shade of the house in the yard. She landed as quietly as possible and rearranged her hold on the beret. She wobbled closer to the young man. Before he had the chance to process what was happening, she jumped on his tummy and pulled the beret over his head before fleeing from the flailing limps.

“WaaaAAH!”

Leo continued flapping around for a bit until he noticed that nothing was happening. He pulled the beret from his face and looked at it in wonder.

“This is for me?”

She nodded.

“Thank you so much!”

He collected her off the ground and stormed inside to a mirror. Tentative he placed the red hat on his blonde head, and it fit.

As if it had always been there.

 

* * *

 

“WHOHOOOOO!”

Violently torn from her nap Penelope hit her head on the board above her nest. Feet stomped on the stairs that let the whole house shake.

Andrea who was currently working with the help of Sandro and Pietro on a new statue immediately moved away from the stone and looked peeved at the oncoming elephant.

Leonardo was radiating happiness and waved a letter through the air.

“You won’t believe this!”

“Please, tone down Leo.”

“They’ve accepted me!”

Andrea took the letter out of the hyper blonde’s hand and read the content. The smile grew with each passing second. The teacher pulled his not-anymore student into his arms for a giant bear-hug. Curiosity aflame the other two snatched it and read it too – joining into the hug afterwards.

The Guild of Saint Luke qualified Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci as a Master.

 

* * *

 

Leonardo watched Chiara with rapid interest. It had taken a bit to build and assemble the setup but now it was finished and ready to be used. Placed on a beforehand emptied desk was a large and strong stick elevated on two blocks of wood which was then placed above a paper. It was meant to give Chiara the chance to paint herself without walking over her work. He too had modified two brushes to have a thicker handle to be easier to hold in a beak.

The artist couldn’t guess what she decided to draw and simply gave her access to a whole pallet of basic colors.

By now she was working around two hours with no sign of stopping. When he would have to guess he would say she was painting people. After another ten minutes his head started to get heavy and after jet again ten minutes, he fell asleep in his chair.

Leonardo woke just as the sun started to sink below the horizon. Chiara’s plumage was covered in colorful specs as well as the desk and the palette was one big brown smudge.

He got Chiara a towel and inspected her painting. She truly did people and they looked surprisingly well done for being made in such an odd manner. A group of four and two duos.

Two of the quartet wore white with red around their hips with the slightly smaller one having a line on his chin, the third had his hood down and wore a blue coat and the fourth and smallest wore grey clothes.

The first duo had been painted with the most colors. A man and a woman going by the length of blond hair standing very close together.

But the last duo was truly strange. The man wore blue pants and white shirt, bearing the same line on his chin as the one from the foursome, next to him was something that could only be described as a model – something without clothes, unfinished – but Chiara seemed to be done.

A little mystery he probably would never decipher.

 

* * *

 

Penelope worried about Leonardo. It wasn’t that he had done anything troublesome, he was just in a very curious phase regarding his sexual orientation.

Not a bother for her but for Renaissance Italy who still thought same-sex relationships were wrong.

It was still excusable or explainable however one would want to call it – he was an artist wo was interested in human anatomy and needed models for his sketches. That they were male most of the time is so far nothing that the neighbors noticed and no one of the models felt as if they were ogled by Leonardo or if they did, no one had talked so far. But she feared it was only a matter of time.

The only ones she would trust to tell Leo that he was too careless without judging him was Andrea or Lorenzo but neither noticed something nor said something.

 

* * *

 

Penelope was taking a nap in her nest as it happened. Hard knocks and the loud demand to open the door ripped apart their midday idyll. With everyone else out of the house for a few days Leo had no other chance than to open the door – they would’ve stormed inside anyway.

It were five guards that dragged her artist away without even letting him a chance to plead not guilty of sodomy. He truly had done nothing else than looking and even that only a bit!

How she missed Altair’s equipment. She wouldn’t have come out unscathed against five armed guards, but she would’ve managed to bring them down.

Penelope had learned to!

But without the reinforcing metal her claws weren’t strong enough to not break against armor nor was her beak able to deal damage without inflicting serious wounds to herself.

Barely keeping the distressed trilling down to not give herself away she could do nothing else than to watch as Leonardo got dragged away.

The first thing she did was letting the door fall into its lock – nobody should come inside to steal something until the rest of the household returned.

Second things second, she had to get Leonardo free. As fast as possible. Without force because as harsh as the reality was, she couldn’t. She was too weak. That meant she needed help that had knowledge regarding laws and politics.

Lorenzo.

As quick as her wings could carry her, she was out of the highest window and flew to the grand Medici Palazzo.

Due to her speed she misjudged how much landing space she required and swept everything off Lorenzo’s desk right in front of him.

“Heavens Chiara!”

Agitated, the Medici stood up and tried to get a hold on the mess on the floor.

The mess was unimportant! Penelope started to wiggle with her wings to get attention.

“What is it?”

Her eyes fell onto a pen; snatching it she flew onto the windowsill, imitating to fly outside.

“Why do you have my pen…wait, pen…is something with Leonardo?”

She nodded.

“I am coming.”

Boots were pulled on and he hastened out to the streets and started to jog fast the way down to Verrocchio’s workshop. Before she could’ve stopped him, Lorenzo knocked on the door asking worryingly for the artist who of course couldn’t answer. The grandmother from the other side of the street on her bench informed Lorenzo of Leonardo arrest.

The Medici called her down onto his arm.

“You are going into my study and stay there. Stay. There. I’ll sort this out. Understood?”

She wanted to help!

“No, I handle it. I can’t have you flying around.”

Lorenzo’s face was stern, and she yielded involuntary. Her mind was jumping around, thoughts all over the place. Penelope hoped with all her heart that Leonardo was uninjured.

She was actually walking circles on the floor as Lorenzo kame back deep into the night. The flickering light of the candle threw shadows across the man’s face letting him look even more worn and tired.

Powerless his body sagged into onto his chair, his hand wandering over his eyes.

“Leonardo got charged with sodomy…. As far as I see it, a model made an offhand comment that he may not be interested in female bed company and was overheard by the wrong person who then reported him. There seems to be evidence – how reliable it is, is debatable. Trial is in the three days alongside with some others. And as long as there is evidence, I can’t do something.”

That meant the evidence needed to disappear. She can infiltrate something and get it destroyed.  
Without even heeding the cussing Lorenzo’s she flew into the night.

Penelope fell into the hunter mentality. A bit of tunnel-vision but everything seemed sharper, calmer. The Eagle Vision guided her way. In a bit of mud, she hid the white shine of her feathers.

Seeing the green dot in the prison building she couldn’t stay away even if it was surrounded by ugly red smudges. From the window she could see guards harassing her friend, but she knew she couldn’t interfere. With a heavy heart she pulled a dirtied feather out and let it sail into the cell. Maybe Leonardo would find it and get hope.

Continuing her personal mission, she contained a frustrated shriek in the last second. The window to the room containing her golden target paper-stack was closed. Penelope was forced to fly into the second closest open window because the first one was occupied. After the patrol walked past the door, she opened it, continuing on the floor.

A few small cupboards were excellent cover to hide from random around strolling guards. Penelope had to walk down the hallway, up the stairs, into the opposite direction and another staircase up. The final door was lavishly decorated despite its rather small size.

And it was locked. Dammit!

Penelope jumped up and gripped with one foot around the doorknob, letting herself hang off it like a bat. Huffing thanks to the upside-down state, Penelope tried to pick the lock with a claw of her other foot. It hurt like hell as the first one broke

She didn’t want to stop, Leonardo needed help. So, she pushed though and tried it with the next one. With the third came the satisfying click of an opening lock.

Finally inside, it was easy to take the evidence but her senses alerted her to a coming presence. The man with cheeks in the same color as his Vision category barged in, ignoring the unlocked state of the door, with a courtesan in his arms. Both were giggling intoxicated stumbling over each other to the bed in the room.

Penelope could only hide beneath the desk and let the rather scarring sounds wash over her until both were deeply asleep. Mortified she could at last leave this room and prison building at the break of dawn.

Now she needed to dispose of the papers and she needed sleep, and something to eat. And sleep.

 

* * *

 

Giovanni was correcting Federico’s stance once more.

“You need to spread your legs apart a bit more or you can get tipped easier. And don’t try to fly with your elbows.”

Both immediately stopped as they heard the crash from the other side of the wall and switched the training weapons to the real deal as the hidden mechanism was triggered.

There was no man in the doorway. There was a bird.

“Chiara?”

The dirty eagle collapsed with a weak trill. Federico could only watch in wonder as his father picked the bird up carefully, if not lovingly.

“Federico get some boiled water and bandages.”

Now that his father mentioned it, he noticed the bloodied foot beside the papers in her beak. Only after another harsh reminder he averted his eyes and made his way to the kitchen. When nobody was looking, he snatched the boiling tea-water from the stove and picked up the box of clean bandages out of the lowest compartment of his father’s desk.

As he arrived back in the hidden room his father was inspecting the bird’s wound. With practiced ease both items were snatched out of his hands. A bandage was dipped into the water, shortly cooled to not be unbearable hot, and then used to wash the blood away. The bird was missing two claws and a third broke off as it was cleaned.

The bird’s head was shaking left and right, and the wings were twitching but it was laying as still as possible through the whole procedure not even letting out one tweet. Now with a bandaged foot the eagle was laid in his lap while his father studied the papers.

Her feathers were so soft despite of all the dirt crumbs in it!

The bird leaned into his touch and fell asleep.

“Father, how do you know this bird?”

Concentration broken, his father looked to him.

“This is Chiara, a Masayaf Eagle. She had been avoiding me since she left the Assassin insignia, so I left her alone. That she is here, wounded, without Leonardo is very troublesome. Something must’ve happened to him, arrested for sodomy if the papers are any indication. I’ll look into it and you look after her. Don’t let her be seen by anyone else.”

“Yes father. How about food?”

Federico was hungry and if he wasn’t to be seen with this bird – not that he really understood why – then he couldn’t leave this room because Claudia would definitely spot him. She was the worst of his siblings shortly followed by Petruccio.

His fathers rolled his eyes at him but promised to bring something before finally leaving the house.

And there he was. Sitting on the floor with a sleeping bird in his lap.

And he was bored.

So, so much bored.

But for some reason he didn’t want to risk waking Chiara. A small relieve was his father with a tray of foot and drink but he was gone within a minute after a kiss to his head.

Resigned he lowered his upper body to the ground and started dozing.

It was a peaceful nap without Ezio shadowing him, thinking he would be able to trick him. Him! The Master of Tricks.

Well rested he opened his eyes to be greeted by golden marbles. It was as if they stripped his very soul bare for anyone to see, making him gasp. Hectically he shuffled backwards, and the bird rolled onto the floor with a screech.

Where has all the color gone! Everywhere he looked only black and white! He needed his eyes fully intact! Panic rose inside of Federico like an all-consuming tidal wave. With an undignified high squeak his brain shut down and he fell unconscious.

~*~

“F…o. Fe..e..co. Federico. FEDERICO!”

Federico jumped up and head-butted his father. His stomach was eating away his insides while his head wanted to explode his vision one swirl of everything – in color! Small victories.

Relieved he grabbed his father’s arms and pressed himself against his chest, eyes wet. Familiar, strong arm circled around him, letting him feel save.

“Father it was horrible! Everything black and white-“

“What?!”

“I know, I know. What would I do if I can’t see colors?!”

Now his father grabbed his arms and pulled him a bit away to see his face. There was however no worry to be seen in it, confusing Federico.

“Describe it to me in detail, please.”

After a few steadying deep breaths came the answer.

“I was looking after the bird like you’ve asked of me, but she continued sleeping so I thought maybe I can too but as I opened my eyes again this bird was sitting on my chest staring me down. No color! It was scary father!”

Then his father smiled. Smiled of all things! If he wasn’t puzzled before he was now.

“It’s ok my son, more than ok actually. It’s a gift if you give it a chance.”

“Father, how?”

The older man sat down beside him and pulled him to lean against his side.

“It’s the Eagle Vision. An Assassin’s greatest asset. I am one of the last few who can use it and now it seems that you can too.”

“Eagle Vision? As in you can see intentions and whatnot?”

“Yes, this _Eagle Vision_. When you calm down and let your mind free your eyes tell you all what you need. Do you know that I see you green?”

“Green?”

“A very bright and beautiful green. Eagle Vision is color-coded. Green are the ones most dear to you, blue are friends and allies, grey is anything unimportant but what makes it an Assassin’s asset are white, red and gold. White are hiding spots, red is anyone who wants you harm and gold are targets of any kind.”

“That sounds crazy!”

“I know, but try it for me please.”

Unsure Federico let himself be pulled to his feet. Calloused hands cradled his head and his father pressed his forehead to his own.

“Deep breaths Federico, let go of anything.”

He trusted his father. After a deep breath he closed his eyes and sagged slightly against his parent. It felt like a cold drop of water running down the back of his head and in response he quickly opened his eyes again.

A very bright and beautiful green.

It was his father, he was the source! Now that he had one of his most trusted people with him, he dared to move away from his shelter and took a look around. The world was black and white and so rich of detail. In the corner Chiara was a small blue dot and even through the walls he could see the green outline of his remaining family members and in blue the house staff.

“This is…”

Federico couldn’t put it in words what he was feeling. It was so many emotions at once. He caught his father’s eyes and let out a gasp. A golden shine laid itself over his father’s eyes and the golden aura that started to wrap around him collected at his back reminiscing of a small pair of wings.

After a few seconds they dispersed in the non-existent wind.

“Father what was that?”

“How curious, that’s what it looks like if two Eagle Vision users look at each other.”

“’S All nice but how do I turn it off?”

Giovanni looked very surprised at that.

“You’re still using it?”

“Yes. Why are you asking like that?”

“Not even records mention many who could hold it seemingly everlasting. That just amazing! Maybe close your eyes and shake your head a bit, that does it for me.”

He did as instructed. It made his brain rattle and he felt an oncoming headache, but everything was back to normal. Once more his father embraced him in a big bear-hug.

 

* * *

 

After everything died down for a bit Giovanni finally told Chiara the news.

“Leonardo is charged with sodomy, but you’ve got all the needed evidence that is needed to charge him – I’ll burn it in the fire. Lorenzo is angry with you just that you know. Talked to him. We can’t do anything now, but they can’t go through with the trial, so they have to set him free. Lorenzo proposed that he goes into hiding in one of his outer residents until the city mostly forgot him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it for the chap but I have a small question to all those English-Native speakers. Is there an English word or expression that describes something that fits weirdly well together even if the first assumption was that it wouldn’t?   
> In German there would be “Es passt wie Arsch auf Eimer.” but I highly guess that’s unlikely that the literal translations. “It fits like an ass on a bucket.” would be correct.


	15. Do you like Chiara? (5/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (self-beta'd)

Artist and bird stood in front of a small shop half hidden behind a street-corner.

“The windows and door look a bit barren; I think they need some flowers. What do you think?”

Penelope nodded affirmatively.

This was to be their new home. After Leonardo’s sodomy charge, he couldn’t stay in Florence, packed his most needed things and alternated the last few years between the different residences of the Medici family outside of the city.   
Now they were back; any commotion or memory was hopefully forgotten in the minds of the citizens.

The inside was dusty and unfurnished. Like an empty canvas to work they could work with. This would be a workshop fit for their needs, less sculpting utensils, more and larger space for paintings and drawings and a few inventions.   
By now Leo had a book full of drawings featuring her wings and especially with his skill that had improved exponentially it was the greatest flattery or compliment one had ever given her.

Penelope even managed to improve her own painting skills a bit, nowhere near the Master’s but recognizable. She made pictures of everyone to not forget them: her parents, her Levantine family, Desmond, the Being and the Verrocchio household. The later one brought great joy to Leo – he framed it.

The first thing they needed to do was cleaning the whole place, it took such a long time that they slept on a mattress on the floor when the night came, Leo’s soft snores echoing in the empty room.

The next day second-hand mobiliary was acquired, missing things given into commission and walls painted in a soft sunflower yellow.

A week later the carriage with their personal items arrived and those were ordered if possible, the rest stayed in boxes until the shelves arrived.

~*~

Two weeks later came the Verrocchio household over. Andrea was now focusing solely on sculpting; Sandro finally had his own shop – acquired just a few months before Leo – and another apprentice joined who wasn’t present at the heartfelt reunion.

People got hugged, hairs were ruffled, and stories shared over a nicely done fish.

They got them, as a homecoming gift, a box full of paint and a specially formed short cupboard. It had a border all around – it was for her. The border should prevent her overflowing nest to lose clothes and other things she horded in it. It got fastened on the wall opposite of the door so she could see and watch everything.

~*~

“My Dear, what shall be our next project?”

 

* * *

 

It had been a busy day for Ezio. Running away from guards after Christina’s father send them after him, getting a small scolding from his father, giving Duccio a lesson – see? Ezio’s busy day.

“Ezio, could you please accompany me? Leonardo finished the commissions.”

Aaaand more things to do.

“Do I have to Mother? …Who is Leonardo?”

“Yes, you do, and would you  _not_  always run off with your brother than you would’ve met him last week, he’s a sweet man. But I think you do already know him.”

And that is how it came to be that he followed his mother outside on an errand in the summer heat, he couldn’t even change his slightly sweaty shirt.  
The door they stopped at was rather hidden, unnoticeable if one wouldn’t look for it, a small flower tub outside. His mother knocked. A bright voice came from inside:

“Please just come in, the door is open.”

The inside was a clusterfuck of things. The mobiliary was buried below mountains of papers, boxes and whatnot only a thin trail walkable without knocking things over. Leonardo stood with his back towards them his figure hidden by cape and hat.

Undeterred by the chaos mother walked up to him and greeted him friendly. She always made him clean his room if there was even the smallest  _hint_  of something out of place! It peeved him a bit to be honest.

“Good day Leonardo.”

“Ah, Mrs. Auditore! Just one moment.”

Curiously Ezio stood on his tiptoes to see what he was doing. Leonardo was…dressing a bird?! The as far as he could see totally white eagle stood perfectly still while a tiny red cape was fastened around its neck above the green …bird-shirt… it was already wearing.

White eagle.

_Pretty bird, fluffy bird._

…How old was this memory? He must have been six…maybe. Was this what his mother meant by him already knowing Leonardo?  
Finally seeing his face, unusual beautiful for a man, Ezio had no recognition. What were the odds that it was the same bird and man from his very hazy childhood memory?

While he was musing about the past the artist was already in a discussion.

“…Chiara was caught in a pigeon’s trap. Whoever found her started to rip out feathers before she could flee; the clothes should provide her with at least some cover until the next mold.”

“Poor thing, she looks well though. A bit like a mini-you.”

The face of the blonde lit up and he made a sound of remembrance. He turned back to the desk and opened the top drawer…it was a small and red beret, just like his own, that was then placed atop of the bird’s head.

“Now the look is complete.”

It was a truly strange picture; a man and a bird dressed the same while the bird looked content? Happy? As positive about it as bird- _ly_  possible.

On the way home, arms filled with the box containing mother’s commissions, he had a better chance to look at the man. He had to be older than him – how much was hard to tell – and he adored his eagle Chiara. He spoke with her as if she was human, but she responded as if she understood him perfectly.

A strange duo indeed.

 

* * *

 

Man, that boy needed to learn subtlety. He was staring at them on the whole way.

According to the doves  _Ezio Auditore da Firenze_  was a dashing youth and pretty womanizer but now, staring as if someone told him the world moves around the sun and not the other way around, made him look…dumb. From above them she could hear the, most of the times cotton-headed, birds swooning.

Thanks to that asshole that decided to rip some of her feathers out her whole skin was itching. And she was missing plumage! Being stared at wasn’t nice either so Penelope was just done with the day and was noticeably happier as Leonardo carried her home.

“Can you sleep on the table for me, you do make an adorable model like this.”

In their own workshop, a few streets down from Verrocchio’s, her nest was filled with different clothes from all around the known world, bought or  _borrowed_  on the various street markets they had visited. She pulled her favorite one – blood red satin – out and made herself comfortable on the space that had been made free for her; Leonardo would place her back in her nest when he was finished.

Leonardo straightened her beret a bit, but she was out soon after.

.

.

pock

.

.

pock pock

.

.

Annoyed Penelope opened her eyes and gave the dove at the window a death-glare. It looked as if it just had shit itself, but it didn’t go away.

Mentally groaning she wiggled out of her nest. Her sailing down to the sill was shaky at best and she landed harder than she wanted to. The outside was just a bit brighter than deep night, so it better was a good reason why she was woken at such a god forsaken hour.

“What?!”

“It’s terrible, terrible I tell you-!“

“Get to the point.”

“The Auditore men are to be hanged this forenoon!”

“WHAT!?”

She didn’t even hear the  _why_  over her own racing thoughts. She just paid Giovanni a visit a few weeks ago where all was fine and dandy and Petruccio had helped her escape a few days ago. Hell, she had just seen  _Ezio_  before she went to sleep. It was a borderline miracle that everything had went dark so insanely fast. She looked at the gaps in her wings with distaste; she had to do something despite the handicap.

Penelope tugged the cape from her shoulders and sadly had to rip a few seams to get out of her shirt. With a strong jump and a few flaps, she reached the desk and laid both clothes down to signal Leo that she was out.

 She took a deep breath to collect herself.

A strong leap, wings flapping to get forward, landing. Repeat.

In that manner she moved through the house upstairs, through a small window to the roof. By now the first bits of the sun were visible on the horizon. She had to act now if she wanted to arrive on time.

She never had seen a hanging before but knew of some that happened since her arrival in Italy. The thought alone send shivers down her back – it was barbaric, there was no better word for it. Hangings were public spectacles, that meant it had to be on one of the palazzos.

The grey of the Eagle Vision was unsettling fitting for the mood, the little golden line leading into the direction of the Palazzo della Signoria.

She got a bit like a tunnel vision and every time she had to land the clacking of her claws on the tiles of the rooftops seemed to be overly loud.

Click, jump, flap, repeat.

As Penelope finally arrived at a rooftop bordering the palazzo, she was completely out of breath with her wings twitching with exhaustion and the sun was completely up. The scaffold was already standing, and the first curious onlookers were present.

What now?

Unhappy she looked at her non-armored feet.

The Auditore shouldn’t die, they were friends! Think! Think!  _Think!_

Directly attacking – a no-go.

.

There was no time left to boycott charges if there had been some.

.

They hang from ropes – ropes could be cut.

.

A roaming went through the people. Giovanni followed closely by Federico und Petruccio, all heavily bound were pushed around by a group of guards. Three.

Ezio was missing! That bare the question if he was already dead or hiding – her gut feeling said hiding and that was at least a small relieve.

Little Petruccio was crying what truly broke her heart. No child should ever be in this position – not even her worst enemy did she wish death by hanging. If dead had to be dealt it should be swift without suffering – without mental torture beforehand or the pain from the mortal wound alike.  
That little boy had found the cage she had been prisoner in a few days ago, opened the lock and distracted the owner until she was gone. Now she had to save him and the rest not only as a  _thank you_  but as a member of the Brotherhood.

Her shining white feathers needed to be disguised. Mentally apologizing to whoever cared for the flowers on the little roof garden nearby she pushed the flowerpot over and rolled in the dirt ignoring the slight burn on her exposed skin. Then she looked around for a stone or something else she could sharpen her claws on.

Easily done with the sight, not as easily implemented but done to at least some degree. Her heart started to hammer hearable in her chest, the nooses were already in place. She had to hurry!

Penelope positioned herself so she could go down in one swoop. With her wings in the state they were in she had no chance to do a second attempt. One claw for Giovanni’s rope, the other for Petruccio’s in the middle and she would snap with her beak at the one from Federico.

A figure drew her attention.   
There he was, Ezio was in the crowd for some reason wearing Assassin whites!

Rigorously he pushed through the people and worked himself forward to the scaffold, yelling that there was evidence to let his family go but the fat man on the podium denied everything.

She had to act now!

With a running start Penelope let herself fall down and that not a moment too early, the man gave the order to pull the lever.

For a second her and Giovanni’s eyes met; his eyes shone in a mixture of unshed tears, panic and a little bit of hope.

First rope.

Second rope.

Third rope.

Now without any momentum left she couldn’t see if it had worked. Her body was pulled down by gravity and hit with a sickening  _thud_  the uneven stone ground, her vision nearly blacking out.

The world around her was turning, people screeching and shouting. Penelope tried to get up, but the spinning only increased, and her legs hurt too much to even attempt standing.

Warm hands wound around her belly and picked her up. She couldn’t place the brown leathery cloth she was pressed against on a person that she knew but he showed up in a mixture of blue and green – he had to be friendly.

The world sped up and she was a bit shaken around, but the volume of the commotion started to fade from overly loud to bearable to unheard. She sighed and relaxed in the strangers hold.

 

* * *

 

Awareness came slowly to Penelope, the room she was in was void of people but lavishly decorated with colorful tapestries and flowers, dancing in the light of many candles.  
Looking down on herself she found out to be seated on a large cushion, both feet drowning in bandages and her right wing strapped tight to her body.

A view with the Eagle Vision revealed many gray smudges a few in blue and two green ones in the space surrounding the room she was in.

Because no one came in for half an hour and she could move barely an inch Penelope started to call out. It took a few minutes but one of the green smudges started to move and came to her.

The wooden door opened and first she thought it was Giovanni but the cut on the lip was an indicator for Ezio. He still wore the Assassin whites even if – as far as she knew – he was not privy to the knowledge of the Brotherhood.

“Hello.”

His voice was ruff and broken, the eyes red and puffy. Ezio picked her up with shaking hands and gently pressed his face into her feathers mumbling thank you over and over.

 

* * *

 

> _Early summer 1476 the Auditore house was ransacked and the men were sentenced to death by hanging. A mysterious large bird had come down as the order to pull the lever came._
> 
> _Giovanni Auditore hang and died._
> 
> _Petruccio Auditore died because the rope wasn’t cut completely. His bodyweight pulled him down, ripping the remaining connection but the noose was loosened too late._
> 
> _Federico Auditore crashed onto the scaffold and ran off with his brother Ezio Auditore. Their whereabouts are currently unknown._


	16. Do you like Chiara? (6/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm unsure if this chapter needs a **trigger warning** because it is a huge spoiler and i _think_ if it is a trigger it's a minor one - just to be on the safe side: if you have one, I put one just in case in the end notes.  
> (self-beta'd)

Leonardo was sorting his newly acquired paint as orderly as for him possible while waiting for Chiara to come home for dinner when somebody knocked at the door.

Carefully putting the little pots down, he made his way over and peaked outside.

“Oh my! Come in, come in. What happened to you two?”

He quickly opened the door completely and let the two Auditore brothers inside. Both looked disheveled and on the verge of crying – and they were dressed unusual. In the safety of his home he pulled them into a big hug, trying to soothe their sadness. Three hands desperately clung to the cape on his back; after a few long moments he discovered what the fourth – Federico’s – held. It was a rather large bundle of something.

Seeing Leonardo’s look Federico unfurled it and revealed a half-conscious mummy-wrapped Chiara which was then pressed into his arms.

“You have one hell of a bird…saved my life.”

Ezio started to tremble beside his older brother who was fast to embrace him.

Leonardo could only piece together that something really bad must’ve gone down, hopefully the rest of their family is alright. He gave Chiara a careful look over and placed her with a kiss on the head in her nest; the only reaction from her a soft cooing.

The he moved the boxes and canvases off the couch and led the brothers there to sit down.

“Wait here for a moment.”

Fast stepped Leonardo went to the kitchen and prepared tea and something small to munch on. On a by thought, he grabbed two of his larger tunics and brought them down for them to change.

They accepted his offerings gladly and huddled together again as soon as they changed clothes.

The artist grabbed a stool and pulled it towards the couch.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

.

.

The story floored Leonardo, completely unsure how to react or what to say he went over and pulled them once more into a hug which both leaned into. It started with shuddering breaths but in the end, both cried in his arms.

How horrifying it must be for the two to lose family in such a way and then to keep a straight face in front of their mother and sister! Leonardo could feel dread coiling in his chest. He brushed through their hair hoping to give them as much comfort as he could.

It was Ezio who fell asleep first.

With the help of Federico, they maneuvered him into a laying position on the couch. Quietly the two stood up but before they could leave the room a small chirp stopped them. Now with eyes clear, Chiara looked at them from her nest.

Looking at the sleeping teen Leonardo realized that he didn’t want to leave him alone, but he did too want to know more. Walking over to the nest he asked Chiara if she would have an eye on Ezio – she nodded.

On a second thought he heaved her out and gently placed her on Ezio’s chest before covering them with a thin blanket. Content with his deed he turned to the older brother who stood waiting in the doorway.

He led him out to the little yard beside his home.

“Thank you for all you’ve done Mr. da Vinci.”

“Please, continue calling me Leonardo. There is no need for formalities here.”

Federico’s shoulders sagged before he looked up to the night sky, exposing the red scrape running all around his neck.

“I would be dead weren’t it for your bird and now we’d probably be heedlessly lost without your open door.”

“Ah, I’ve meant to ask earlier, how did she safe you?”

“Fell from the sky and tried to cut the ropes which should hang us. The cut on my father’s rope wasn’t deep enough and I wasn’t fast enough to help Petruccio out of his noose,” Federico clenched his fists, “I… _dammit_ …you’re an inventor, yes?”

“Yes?”

“My father and I – we swore to protect the innocent and free will. Ezio doesn’t now of it yet but found father’s old clothes, the white ones he turned up in. I have my own set too…. Because my training wasn’t completed my blade is weak and my father didn’t manage to fix his. We have two basically unusable blades. Can I ask of you to repair them?”

From the way Federico talked it couldn’t be normal blades. And how far did this _protection_ go? Up to killing if one was in the way? Even with the great mind of his, Leonardo couldn’t think straight anymore.

“How about after a good night’s sleep? You definitely look like you need it.”

Down casting his eyes, Federico nodded and let himself be led back inside.  
From below his ordered mess Leo conjured a mat and a handful of cushions and blankets, all of which got placed in front of the still sleeping Ezio.

The last Leonardo saw of them for the night was Ezio sleeping on the couch and his brother sleeping in front of it; the two holding hands. Chiara who was still draped on Ezio’s chest had her only relatively unharmed wing open to stretch down to cover the older brother too.

Leonardo blew out the remaining candle in the room.

 

* * *

 

Leonardo woke as always with the sun. Careful to avoid the loudest creaking stairs he went down to look after the two he was currently housing.

Ezio must’ve vacated off the couch to his brother’s side during the night but both Auditore were still slumbering. Only Chiara’s head peaked out between them as he grabbed a basked and walked to the door. His pastry was only calculated for one person and one bird.

Despite the early hour quite many were already awake and storming the market. Left and right rumors about the Auditore hanging.

_“Have you heard a bird interfered the trial.”_

_“What have the Auditore done?”_

_“That gigantic monstrosity must’ve been a sign!”_

_“A bird of God’s design.”_

Leonardo had to bite his tongue as the picture of his Chiara was warped further and further into one of a child-eating monster, or that of an all-mighty beast. The opinions were rather split about that. Chiara was large, there was clearly no denying that, but she was the most kind-hearted soul he had ever met. A white and feathery fluffball that liked neck-scratches, fish and red satin cloth.

He didn’t put as much effort in haggling down the prices as he usually did. He didn’t want to leave the two brothers alone for too long.

By his return the two were awake and sat on the couch, their eyes clouded by anger. It only abated a bit as he was noticed.

“Morning Leonardo.”

“Morning.”

The now filled basked got placed on the kitchen table and Leonardo got the teens a water basin and something to dry themselves after refreshing. After he nudged the brothers to eat something, he asked them what they wanted to do.

“We have to leave.”

Ezio turned worryingly to Federico.

“Where to brother? We need to go far if we don’t want to be found.”

“It’s not too far, we’ll be able to find shelter by our Uncle Mario.”

“The one with the strange laugh?”

“That one.”

A few minutes of silence past only interrupted by the clattering of Chiara’s small plate because she basically had to lay on her belly to eat hear beak clattered on the ceramic. Federico had mercy with her and started to feed her.  
Then Ezio saw the white robes he found and wore yesterday.

“Brother, do you know what those are for? I found them in some hidden compartment in Father’s study.”

“Yes, and I will tell you soon. But what’s most important is what’s in the bundle you brought along.”

Three pairs of eyes looked at the older Auditore.

With a slim smile on his lips he stood up and got the mentioned bundle and unwrapped it on the table.

Leonardo’s inner designer was swooning. As broken as it was the craftmanship was remarkable. Without really thinking about it his hands darted forward to inspect it.  
It was some kind of bracer with a mechanism in which the currently separate laying blade seemed to fit in perfectly. But how should he understand another one’s craft? It would take him many days to disassemble it, marking down what goes where to reassemble it correctly again and by the looks of it, Federico and Ezio didn’t have the time for that.

Then Leonardo’s eyes fell onto the scroll, the second Codex paged the Brotherhood knew of.  
With eager curiosity he fetched and opened it.

Code! Somebody had written this in code but going by the sketch of the bracer on it, it had to be instructions. Without giving any attention to either brother he scooped all up and made his way to his workshop. There was something to think!

How exciting!

 

* * *

 

Penelope could only smirk at the antics of her friend and the rather dumbfound expression of the brothers. She was glad that there were some things that never seem to change; give Leonardo a puzzle and he was like a severely starved dog who smelled delicious steak.

Emotions were an uncertain topic for her. On one hand she was glad to spare Federico from his fate but Petruccio died and Giovanni died. In her mind she knew that saving even one was like a miracle – she was a bird; one couldn’t stress this enough – but her heart disagreed.

After a bit of sleeve-tugging she managed to direct Federico to carry her to Leonardo who was bend over his desk mumbling away.

The older brother ordered his little brother to stay put – Federico would get his own stuff that was still in the Auditore house.

“But-.“

“No buts Ezio, I know how to disappear in the masses.”                                         

Still, Federico wasn’t allowed to go without a hug.

Now that Ezio had no one to talk to he found his way back to the couch and eventually napped away. And with the silence Penelope could understand what Leonardo was mumbling about.

It hurt a bit.

Penelope knew that Leo had taken a closer look at the Arabic language but to hear it once more – even if the pronunciation was rather butchered – brought up a lot of memories. Sun, sand and stone walls. People she missed dearly. On that note, what happened with Malik? She knew that Altair had an at least semi-happy life, but did Malik get a family? He seemed to be a good father type.

Sighing she stretched to lay on her belly and simply watched Leo darting around.

 

* * *

 

It was easy for Federico to go unnoticed. Instead of trying to hide, go out into the open and become one with the masses.

_Hide in plain sight._

The second tenet. The others would be:

 _Stay your blade away from the flesh of an innocent_ and in his opinion the most important: _never compromise the Brotherhood_.

With shiny eyes he opened the latch of his room’s window and climbed inside. Everything was just like he left it. Feeling as if his power was drained by the second, he sat down on his bed. Sighing loudly, he pulled his favorite plush toy from below his pillow where it had been hidden away from Ezio – he would’ve laugh at him for still holding onto his “baby-stuff” (even though he still held onto his own). Now it brought him comfort. Snuffles was a white-brown dog he got from his father covered with patches from his mother were seams started to tear after years of dragging him around.

When he closed his eyes, it was easy to pretend to be younger. Father would come in any minute to wake him for training, then they would go to the kitchen were his mother was already drinking tea, eating a bit before trying to sneak into the secret room.

But Father would never wake him again. And Mother – oh his dearest Mother was in such a catatonic state that he didn’t believe she could ever be whole again.

Umberto had to pay.

Oh, how he had to _pay_!

Angered he placed Snuffles down and pulled out the box from under his bed. The he had to lay flat on the floor and grab below it to push aside the loose wood and pull out his equipment.

Compared to his father’s robes his were less decorated and more in a greyish color-scheme. When he thought about it, after this he would give them to Ezio and take his Father’s instead. He would teach Ezio all he knew and hope that the others would fill in the blanks. That’s a plan. But now Umberto.

Federico put his bracer on. The mechanism for the blade was functioning perfectly but he knew one wrong hit against it and the whole thing was broken. It was a replica made by his Father whose own blade was an heirloom passed down by generations – a truly original Hidden Blade.

He checked one last time if everything was where it belonged before turning to leave through the window again. Last second, he turned and put Snuffles into one of his belt-pockets and got from Ezio’s room his brother’s green chicken from the highest cupboard, hidden behind some books. Now having acquired two of their favorite toys he couldn’t stop and got Claudia’s and Petruccio’s as well. It was a bit of a tight fit in his pockets, but it _did_ fit.

~*~

Over and over he went through the steps of Assassination.

Collecting – stalking – waiting – striking.

First, Umberto was at Verrocchio’s newest art-exhibition.

Second, climb up the house unseen by the guards to have a good view onto the yard.

Three, activate the Eagle Vision and wait until the target is in striking position.

Four.

…Four.

… _Four_ … he had to take a life. Federico had never killed one before – beaten people into a pulp sure, but never with the intention of _death_. He had to. Umberto couldn’t live on with what he had done.

Umberto wasn’t _innocent_.

With a deep breath he ran forward and let gravity do its job. He landed on the bastard’s chubby body and drove the blade into his neck. The warm droplets of blood on his face felt surreal.

It was as if the world was tilting sideways and got replaced by a sea of mirror shards. Umberto was standing again! Now furious he drove forward again and buried his blade once more in his neck.

The telltale cracking of his bracer brought him back to reality. People started to realize what happened and guards started to grip their swords.

Quickly, Federico pulled his blade back but couldn’t retract it into the bracer anymore. With the blade out he wouldn’t be able to climb without cutting himself, instead he darted through the space between two guards and toppled the ones at the door over on his way out.

Left street, right street another right.

Florence was his territory and the pursuers lost sight of him after the fourth corner. Then he hid in some bush-cutting for extra caution. Climbing out again after feelingly hours he looked onto the blood on his person.

His first kill.

Federico didn’t know how to feel about that. Umberto deserved it but it was still a life taken by choice.

The sun had passed her zenith, high time to go back to Leonardo. Hopefully he wasn’t put off by the blood, but he didn’t want to lie to him if he was to handle their equipment. Shuffling his clothes to hide the worst strains from view he made his way back.

Federico couldn’t believe his eyes what he saw then. Ezio was pulling a dead guard going by the bloodstain he left behind into Leonardo’s workshop.

What the fuck?

 

* * *

 

The situation was cleared quickly. Someone saw them with Leonardo and a guard tried to get information about their whereabouts– forcefully. Ezio used the newly repaired bracer and killed the guard looking rather unfaced by the fact.

“Brother what have you done to be covered in blood?”

“Umberto is no more.”

“What?!”

“I will explain it to you when we have the time. Now I’d like to wash my clothes and repair my blade.”

Ezio did want to say more but Federico gave him a look that clearly said that he would hear nothing at the moment. He cleaned the blade first so Leonardo could get to work. The artist however looked very reluctant.

“I know I repaired the first one – curiosity got the better of me, but I am unsure if I can do another. I do not condone mindless killing.”

“It’s not mindless, rest assured. I do not know how much I am allowed to tell you but I and soon Ezio too are part of a group and the very first rule is to never, never-ever harm an innocent person.”

Leonardo wasn’t even remotely convinced and retreated into himself with his posture. Surprisingly Chiara made a peep and drew the blonde’s attention. She nodded. Leonardo clicked his tongue and reached out with his hand.

“Ok, I’ll do it. Never harming innocents, promise?”

“Wholeheartedly sworn on everything I hold dear…thank you.”

Finally relaxing, Federico got out of his bloodied clothes and started the washing routine his father taught him. The whole time he could feel Ezio’s eyes bore into is back.

“What?”

“I want an explanation brother.”

Sighing he wringed the water out and hang the robes into the sun.

“Father and I are part of something much larger, wanted to approach you too, soon. But Mario will be better to tell you everything.”

“ _Brother_.”

“We’ll wait for Mario.”

Ezio grumbled angrily but just turned away.

~*~

“Federico could you please come over for a moment?”

Said teen followed Leonardo’s voice into the workshop, the artist holding both Hidden Blades. His posture was still one of a person just short of bolting even if he tried to hide it well.

“Which blade goes to whom of you? I fixed both but I needed to change the straps, _so_ I have to make them fitting for you individually, so they don’t shuffle around.”

That was a good question. Federico would definitely take his father’s robes – they were a sign of rank after all, even if the whiteness of Assassin robes was more of a tendency nowadays. But the blade? His father had him test the original blade once or twice, but he did prefer his plainer and lighter replica despite its instability. And if _Leonardo_ had repaired them than they should be better than before. His happiest memories were infused in the replica and he didn’t want to give them up for any money in the whole world. And the original blade would be a memento for Ezio.

“I’ll take the slimmer bracer, the larger one goes to my brother.”

“Okey then, arm out please. I make them a bit adjustable so they can be worn over a sleeve too.”

Federico did as he was asked to and led Leonardo bend his arm around as he needed it. It was interesting to watch how tinkering affected the other. The more he worked, the relaxer he became. After a bit he started to mumble too. That’s why he learned that Leonardo did not only repaired it but also modified it to withstand strong blows; according to him it should be the bones in his arms that break earlier than the mechanism – not that he wanted to test that out.

The blade felt good on his arm. As if it always belonged there.

But as much as it fit it hurt to see his reflection as he put on the Whites. The only thing that differs between his mirror image and his father’s memory is the chin; his had the bit of roundness from his mother and a shadow of a beard. Father shaved – had shaved himself daily. He was a tad bit too lazy for that.

Biting down the tears that wanted to be shed he got his clothes and gave them to Ezio. It was actually a bit baggy on his brother’s shoulders, but he would grow into them. He had done it too. Nobody was born an Assassin.

Federico said goodbye to Chiara first, his brave savior who came even if she had already been hurt. His survival was solely based on the bravery of one lone eagle. He promised to himself to never kill any bird and aid those he saw hurt. Petting her head one last time he collected his brother and said his goodbye to Leonardo.

Surprisingly any invisible border that had been present before between them was gone and the blonde embraced Ezio and him as heartily just as he did when he first let them in. Leonardo even promised them an open door whenever they needed or to be available if their equipment should fail. He only wanted to see the Codex pages if one should turn up.

Federico looked back sadly at the artist’s door. The last safe heaven they probably have for a long while.

 

* * *

 

Penelope recovered only slowly and slept quite a lot but by the third week the sleepiness got replaced by restlessness. Another week in, Leonardo had mercy with her and gently placed her in a bundle that he strapped to his back.

He was no fan of heights but climbed up for her one of the higher buildings so she could feel the wind on her feathers. It involved a lot of improvisation – boxes and ladders but sweating and silently swearing Leonardo was on the top after half an hour.

It took another two weeks before Leonardo was sure everything was healed perfectly and stopped wrapping her up like a mummy. That was just before she started to mold, to such an extend this time that she had not enough feathers in-between that an attempt at flying was impossible.

It frustrated her and pissed her of. The muscles in especially her right wing – the one that had been strapped down – were so weak that she had to learn to fly all over. All in all, it were basically two months until she could fly normal distances without having to land for a breather.

With all the downtime came the dark thoughts too. Once more doubts if she could help Desmond, if she had done the right choice. Were the remaining Auditore alright? It was misery.

Leonardo tried his best to cheer her up until he ran out of options and proposed to her that she flew out and looked after Ezio and Federico. He had puzzled together that she had seen them, mostly Federico, rather frequent before they stumbled into his workshop.

And it was a good proposal.

Except for Maria Auditore, the remaining family members were up and running. She even provided Mario with a night of comfort in which he could truly grieve for his lost brother and nephew. Humans seemed to like her cooing and bird hugs.

What surprised her was the teary greeting as she flew home. Leonardo was embracing her as if she had been gone for years. Her poor, poor artist thought she would stay with the Auditores.

How could she leave her best friend behind?

 

* * *

 

Two years.

It had taken the teens – young men – two years to visit their workshop again and that with ugly news. The Pazzi were after their friend Lorenzo de’ Medici and his family. Unlike his deceased father Lorenzo was epitome of health and the Medici managed Florence well enough.

Federico was out with Leonardo getting something more to eat and to buy some things. Leonardo hadn’t told them, but he was nearly finished with two new Hidden Blades that only needed the last bits of fine-tuning.

It was the first time she was alone with Ezio.

In a rather awkward atmosphere, she sat on the desk while he sat on a stool in front of it. He harrumphed and started to scratch the back of his head.

“You understand me?”

She nodded. Ezio looked surprised at that.

“Did… did you just roll your eyes at me?!”

What should she do otherwise? Everyone who wasn’t close to her questioned her intelligence over and over.

“Okay- okay. Me and my-.”

Penelope chirped to remind him of his manners.

“Eh…my brother and I want to interrupt the assassination of the Medici tomorrow. My Uncle and Federico believe in the Masayaf Eagle – you. Would you accompany us as our eyes in the sky?”

Of course she would! She nodded again.

“I am…talking to a _bird_!”

Now that was rude. Penelope snapped at his sleeve.

“I understood. UNDERSTOOD. Stop pecking me. I said stop pecking me! PLEASE! Thank you.”

Pouting he turned away from her and that was the exact moment the two others decided to come back and walked in.

“Brother, did you get mocked by a _bird_?”

“Ha-ha. Just laugh about me. I want to see how you look if you get pecked at.”

Penelope saw the same idea glimmering behind Federico’s brown eyes as she had in her mind. The older Auditore came over and petted her head in an overly exaggerated manner and put his best mocking baby-voice on.

“Oh poor, poor Chiara. Did my brother offend you, so you had to teach him a lesson? Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl? You are! Just look at his pouty face, you’ve done well.”

“ _Brother!_ ”

All began to laugh after that, even Ezio couldn’t contain it. It felt nice to have so much life in the room. Leonardo had visitors and they weren’t bad by all means,

 most of them were other good thinkers but calm and collected personalities.

Under the pretense of wanting to cook in peace he send them all into the courtyard to nap in the midday sun and quietly discuss the events of tomorrow. There wasn’t much of a plan they could do.

They had to hide along the masses and pick the people that needed to be incapitated out of the crowd with the Eagle Vision.

Probably about two hours later he called them back in and asked the brothers for their arms. Instinctively both gave their blade arm. But Leonardo wanted the empty ones.

Both were squealing like little kids with new toys as they got their new blades and Leonardo found himself in a group hug. Fitting to the ones they already had Federico’s was with very little decoration and light whereas Ezio’s was heavier.

They did not stay for the night, but she would meet them tomorrow at the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore.

 

* * *

 

“Be careful my dear, do you hear me?”

Cooing Penelope let Leonardo mother-hen her. He put off her red band around her neck – it was made anew because the bastard that was now frequently covered in bird droppings who pulled out her feathers also sold her band to who-knows-whom. She didn’t want the new one to get it dirty or lost.

The masking of her white feathers had become a calming procedure whenever she went out undercover. Every once in a while, she _borrowed_ information for any member of the Brotherhood – la Volpe being the most frequent. In return they all had an eye out for Leonardo so nothing could happen to him. It was la Volpe too who came one morning unannounced and explained the Creed to Leonardo and offered to join but he was happy to be just a little helping hand at the side. Even if it wasn’t _mindless_ killing, he did not want to be part of it.

Despite the brown layer she had to be more careful that before. Since the Auditore hangings they weren’t as often practiced but still a handful happened. Somehow, she had evolved into a local legend that a “large godsend bird” would come down if an innocent should be sentenced to death. Ok, she knew why. Once a young thief boy – twelve at best – angered the wrong person and was sentenced. She couldn’t just watch, the boy looking too much like Petruccio, and snapped him down. The second was an innocent man who had been framed; for that one she just needed to be present, so he was let down and could go.

Penelope hadn’t listened what kind of religious mass was happening but there were a lot of people present. And there was no sign of any potential killer. Federico and Ezio were two green dots, a few people with a mini pinch of blue but no red so far.

And there it was, coming quickly. She got airborne and screeched, getting the Assassin’s attention then flew into the direction the handful of red people came. She still had no protection on her body – something she definitely wanted to remedy but so far, she had no clue how to communicate this with Leo.

Today she was only able to distract individual guards/mercenaries/whatever they were and indicate if more joined the fray. And there were a lot. Where did all those rats came from?

Penelope could only watch as her friends were swarmed. She would’ve trusted Federico and Ezio _alone_ to deal with them, but they had a whole family to protect. Despite all efforts Giuliano de’ Medici got separated and struck drown.

It started a whole chain reaction. Lorenzo cried out, got distracted and hit. Ezio managed to push through and stop the deadly blow against him. Federico however needed longer until he reached Giuliano and the man was down and dying as he reached him.

The next events where in slow motion.

Federico stood up to face the oncoming attackers but in the panic of death Giuliano gripped his foot and threw him off-balance.

Despite falling Federico raised his sword but it did not help to deflect the oncoming blow completely.

A sword was impaled in his stomach, a bit to the right.

Ezio’s as well as Penelope’s cry tore through the sound of fighting.

“FEDERICO!!”

What followed was best described as a rampage. Ezio slaughtered everyone remotely red in the vicinity, blood coating floor, metal and cloth. Before falling to his knees at his brother’s side whose breathing was shallow, but he was still conscious.

Some of Lorenzo’s personal guards had joined in sometime and now helped to get the Medici to his feet. One wanted to help Ezio, but he refused. Putting his sword away he gently lifted his brother up, carefully to jostle the imbedded sword as little as possible.

Half on the way to Lorenzo’s safe place Ezio’s arms started to shake under the strain but he only bit his lip and pushed through.

And Penelope? Penelope felt fucking helpless. The only thing she could do was warn if a too large group of enemies was behind the next corner.

When they reached their destination, Federico had a hard time keeping it together and tears coated his cheeks.

Half-crying himself Ezio leaned his brother against a free bit of wall, she wiggled below the hand at his side to hopefully give some comfort. Federico started to laugh desperately; with his other hand he pulled the sword out with a hiss. A red puddle started to form below him quicker and quicker while his face turned white.

“Brother!”

Federico gave his brother a weak smile and tried to wipe away the tears on Ezio’s cheek.

“Shhh…it’s…ok. I mean it. I had two wonderful years of watching my baby brother grow into a fine young man…all is ok.”

With his last strength Federico gripped Ezio’s neck and pulled him towards him, leaning against one another’s forehead.

“Never forget…I love you.”

Federico slumped lifeless against his brother.

 

* * *

 

Ezio couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. But he could feel his brother’s strength waning with each passing second. So fast in fact that he was sure that Federico didn’t even hear his reply. He loved him too. Loved him with all his heart.

Federico had always picked him up.

When he was tiny Federico picked him up and carried him around nearly everywhere describing everything he could.

When he got older Federico picked him up and put him back on his feet whenever he fell.

A few years later Federico picked him up when he overdid it with the alcohol consumption.

And two years before now Federico picked him up when their family fell apart.

His world shattered.

And that not only metaphorical, no. The world around him _broke into pieces_.

More and more mirror shards and grey took over until it was all he saw. And there was Federico.

Tall, standing, _living_ Federico.

Both surprised and deep-down scared ran into each other’s arms in a near bruising grip.

“I know I _died_ , how is that possible?!”

“How should I know?!”

Ezio didn’t care. He had a chance. Deeply buried with his head in his brother’s clothes he told him over and over that he loved him until there was another voice calling out.

Both looked up and were struck by curiosity. They refused to let go of each other but went hand in hand towards the voice.

A voice that Ezio recognized but didn’t knew why.

And it hit him like a good punch to the face as a teen appeared behind some floating shards. The rings around the eyes were more pronounced but he realized who it was with dirty-grey clothes and black disheveled hair. An old and strange childhood nap-dream.

“Pleasedon’tdisappearpleasedon’tdisappear.”

The teen grabbed both of their arms, hard and cried. Just like if Claudia or Petruccio came to them crying they pulled him instinctively between them into a hug. The teen however sagged so much that the three stumbled down.

And the world shattered again.

Lorenzo’s house reassembled itself again and Federico’s lifeless body was still leaning against him, a shaking Chiara between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry...?
> 
>  **Possible trigger warning:**  
>  \- rather major character death.


	17. Leaving a safe nest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (self-beta'd)

Desmond was violently thrown out of the Animus, his own reaction stronger than ever. There wasn’t even some loading screen-white; just gone straight from renaissance Italy to modern day in a second. For him, his hands and clothes were painted in the red of his brother’s still warm blood – Ezio’s brother. He shook like a leaf in a storm, crying in misery that actually wasn’t his own.

But there was no Desmond. But neither was there Ezio. Whoever he was at the moment was caught between those two with a pinch of Altair.

In situations emotionally overwhelming as this one, Altair demanded for a save place and Desmond wanted quietness – and Ezio knew a place. They, in one, got to their feet and ran toward the statues in the room. It where only a few meters, but the Italian made it feel as if they just ran from Florence to Monteriggioni into an empty Sanctuary.

The white statue of Altair was as magnificent as the day it was build full of love to detail even if not fully accurate for it was made so many years after his death.  
Desmond supplemented the next bit for their “save place”. He had found out by sheer luck that when one rolled together, the feet of the statue where the perfect spot to do so for hours. The smooth surface curving in the same way as his spine. The over-dimensional large and spread wings of Risha casted a gentle shadow over them and helped to mute the overwhelming Eagle Vision for at least little bit.  
The last deed was done by the Altair-part in them: with the thought of Malik, the person next to them was grabbed and spooned. Ezio had hoped for a bird but took it as an alternative without protest, Desmond was just happy that there was someone.

 

* * *

 

Shaun was too spooked out to say a peep.

At first Desmond fell out of the Animus-chair, had a discussion with himself in three different languages before running to the statue to lay at its feet.  
And then, as Shaun tried to check on him, he had been grabbed and was now in an uncomfortable octopus hold while Desmond pressed his face against his back mumbling away in Arabic.

“You ok there Shaun?”

“Eh, yeah. Just can’t really move. Could you please find out what got this git so worked up?”

While Lucy and Rebecca replayed the footage of the last seen memory Shaun tried to get out of the hold – without success. As soon as he moved even a bit to the side the arms around him tightened further. And while he thought about it, as long as Desmond was too deep in the memory bleed, he can be lucky to be seen as friendly. Just yesterday as Lucy interrupted Desmond’s daydreaming, he mercilessly threw her over his shoulder and pinned her on the floor with his Hidden Blade at her neck. He came back just in the last second to notice what he was doing, apologizing over and over. Shaun had then wanted to take the Blade away from him, but he was overvoted and Desmond kept it.

The cold glint in his eyes when Desmond had grabbed Lucy was the scariest thing he had ever seen, and he shivered at the memory of those deadly piercing orbs. Whatever was present of Desmond noticed this and started to brush though his hair as if he wanted to calm him down while the other arm was still secure around him.

“Please hurry you two, before he gets too grabby.”

“Ok, ok, we’re on it.”

The truth was they all hadn’t been paying attention when Desmond spontaneously desynchronized. Mr. Miles had wanted a status report on his son, if he was behaving or if he had to come. To whom do you write such a mail? To the father in Mr. Miles or the Mentor? Because seen as the Mentor Desmond was fine and dandy, fallouts manageable, but seen as a father – as far as Shaun could guess how a father must feel – Desmond wasn’t fine, and it was only a matter of very little time until he broke. Today a fine example for that.

From behind him he could he the grunts of disbelieve from the girls.

“Don’t leave me hanging – hugging – here.”

Rebecca came to him within a save distance and held the laptop screen in his face.

“Federico died in Ezio’s arms – that would explain why Desmond couldn’t keep the synchronization up but what’s interesting comes afterwards. Desmond wasn’t immediately thrown out, as with any killed target they ended in that subspace-thingy but there was another _person_ -.“

“What?!”

“And now comes the fun part. Lucy thought him familiar, so I ran a face recognition. There was at first nothing but then I went through the people seen in the Animus and there was a perfect match. Our mystery man – or teen really – is no other than Kadar Al-Sayif.”

“Wasn’t Kadar Ma-.”

“Yes, Kadar was Malik’s little brother. I checked Baby over and over but can’t find any mistake why a Levantine Assassin should be in Ezio’s memory. The goodbye between Ezio and Federico was tearful to watch by the way.”

“I don’t need a sob-story. What now?”

Rebecca put the laptop away and stemmed her hands into her hips, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“You enjoy your cuddling session and we sort this through.”

Shaun wouldn’t admit it, but he made a small n’ tiny whining sound.

“ _Rebecca_.”

 

* * *

 

Desmond was just on the verge between asleep and awake. He was laying comfy and was leaning against something nicely warm.

But that thing _breathed_.

With all of his mental willpower he cracked his eyes open and was greeted by his vision filled with a grey jumper. Shaun’s jumper. Surprised he let go of the other and shuffled backwards. Sadly, the feet of the statue were large but not _that_ large and he fell on his back wiggling like an upturned turtle.

“Look who’s finally awake!”

Desmond sat up and rubbed his hurt backside.

“I’m sorry?”

He wasn’t really but apologized anyway. As awkward as it was, he had a very nice nap – the best he had since weeks and he felt like he actually rested for once; Ezio and Altair enjoying it too, keeping blissfully quiet in the process.

“Can you explain to me what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were _bleeding_ Desmond. What did you saw?”

He didn’t want to share it with the others, especially not Shaun who would tease him endlessly.

“I…don’t remember.”

Before Shaun could reply however, his stomach made itself known with a loud grumbling. The Brit sighed at that and send him to eat something. The girls ask if he was fine as he walked past them – he was for now as much as he could.

There was only a little thing. And he had no clue how to tell it the others if he didn’t even tell them that he had that pressure at the back of his head. Because the pressure created by the power imbalance between Ezio’s memories – the stronger ones – and Altair’s had shifted. There was no longer a difference between them in terms of strength, they both were just as strong or weak as the other.

With a convenient store sandwich and his unconnected mobile phone, he climbed back onto his previous napping spot. Desmond had to take notes before he maybe forgot something important.

 He wrote about everything that came into his mind, the people he saw. Maybe he too should keep track of when he was bleeding and who of his ancestors influenced this?

 

* * *

 

Every time Lucy looked at Desmond, she felt that small twinge of guild in her gut. She was the only one of the three that watched from the very beginning how the Animus changed him. When Abstergo got him, he relented quick to them to help his friend, that had been caught alongside him, but when he had been inside his room he moved around, done sit-ups and whatnot every once in a while. Desmond had been beaten down but was active as much as he could. Lucy got him the door code first, so he had more space to move around and find her subtle planted clues that she wasn’t his enemy.

Now Desmond was only a shadow. He didn’t move unless someone told him he should. And she knew that the bleeding got worse. Lucy cursed Vidic that she wasn’t allowed to finish her undercover mission earlier to spare Desmond at least some of the pain.

As much as Assassin’s pretended to be the saints – to be the “good side” in this ancient war; as soon as something went even remotely against them it had to be terminated or remedied. Desmond helped to save their hide but instead of rewarding him, they pushed him further; never enough. Just as they had done with her. Lucy had requested to be taken out of Abstergo – couldn’t deal with it anymore – but there was never an answer and then Vidic approached her. He had helped to clear her mind and find her focus. Seeing the err in her ways and those of the Assassin’s.

Sighing she massaged the bridge of her nose and looked at the little innocent video-file on her desktop.

The mysterious not-Assassin hacker had left it on various parts on the Abstergo website, the result of a small but nearly catastrophic mistake on their side. It had been taken down in just a few seconds, but they didn’t know if there was somebody who had seen it. All who could were ordered to find that hacker without results as far as she knew.

The very first frame in the preview was a picture of Desmond and Penelope sitting together.

Lucy took a heart and got her headphones out to watch the video without drawing attention to her as longs as she didn’t know what it entailed. The headphones weren’t necessary in the end – it was without audio, only subtitle.

It was filled with pictures and video snippets of Desmond and Penelope; two missing people. And…and somehow, they had footage from a security camera that showed them being dragged into Abstergo Headquarters. No wonder that video had to be gone as fast as it did. Abstergo as kidnappers? That would ruin their image for all eternity even if all evidence was destroyed. Just a little seed of doubt in people and it would hold a lifetime in their subconsciousness. It made her anxious to think about who managed to hack into them, find those few seconds in the massive amounts of camera feed that came in each second and the guild towards Penelope came back too.

Lucy wanted to be there when she got out, guide her so the two of them could snatch Desmond and be gone. Penelope had only been in the wrong place at the wrong time, there hadn’t been the need to drag her further into this mess.

A coworker had intercepted her with some report and the food for Penelope had gone out without her close by. And she hadn’t anticipated her to be that fast and jumping-happy. How much bad luck must someone have to walk in into the _one_ room out of hundreds that housed one of the most unsafe artifact experiments they had. Just a few days later it should’ve been deconstructed and tugged away until further notice because of the Animus’ success.

Penelope had managed to destroy everything. The room was a mess and even the artifact that opened the portal-door was somehow gone without a trace.

Such a headache.

 

* * *

 

_“I am sorry, but I have to go.”_

_He found himself in a desperate group-hug. A small voice in the pile spoke up:_

_“You don’t have to. They don’t know who you are.”_

_“For now. It’s only a matter of time. I did the best I could to hide my trails, but they are getting dangerously close. I can’t lead them here with my presence. They have gone too far – I want to expose more of them, but I can’t endanger you all.”_

_The others knew, any argument to persuade him to do otherwise was in vain. They could only let him go and wish for his wellbeing._

_“Get them Vulture. Bring Owl and Eagle home again.”_


	18. Do you like Chiara? (7/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, that chapter took me quite much of going back and forth but it’s ready and done (as well as I myself) and I shall work no more on this and postpone learning for the two big tests in the next three days.  
> Thank you all for your kind comments, they brighten up my day and mood :)  
> (self-beta’d)

Leonardo rocked her gently back and forth to provide comfort for her. He cleaned her still dirty feathers and re-clasped her necklace. And after a fitful night of little sleep Penelope had her mind free enough to think again.

Leonardo did it for her anyway.

Not only had she lost a friend – Ezio lost a brother. Her artist send her to fly after him. It was a good thing he did.

Penelope found Ezio somewhere off road between Florence and Montiggioni in the still bloodied clothes of Assassin Whites. They were unwashed and unfixed but it were the same robes Federico inherited from their father who now were worn by the last young male Auditore.

Together they cried ugly in the shade of a tree, finding comfort in their shared grief.

 

* * *

 

Mario was restless and he didn’t know why. Deep within his bones he knew something was wrong – it was the same feeling as two years prior, just shortly before the message of his brother’s death reached him. He didn’t was to think about it.

Seeing that he would get nothing done other that injure himself he left his mercenaries to continue training without him and went to check on the few people stationed on the defensive walls. There was nothing noteworthy other than a merchant on a journey through. Since his nephews tasked themselves to help him building up Montiggioni to its former glory with the careful monitoring of Claudia the living qualities improved immensely, and the first merchants started to look by.

A distant eagle’s cry let him look out to the horizon. A lone white-hooded rider. Only one. The grey one was missing. Ezio just stayed in Florence, Mario rationed with himself, he had to look after Lorenzo after all.

Still Mario’s heart pounded heavy in his chest as he ran to the ladder and climbed the walls down to meet Federico at the front gates.

It was a magnificent picture seeing him from the back with Chiara on his arm but something in his stance was off. His greeting was stuck in his throat as Federico turned around – so much blood.

 _Giovanni used to come home bloodied all the time, drenched in much but rarely his own._ But Mario’s mind caught up why the posture was off. In front of him wasn’t Federico who stood rather space-friendly – in his clothes was Ezio.

Uncle and nephew embraced each other, Ezio uncaring about Chiara he had rudely thrown off.

In a daze Mario led the younger one to the villa into the study where they both went down on their knees leaning against each other. It was somewhat lucky that Claudia was out because none of them wanted to tell her the news or Mama Auditore. It took them both long until they calmed down considerably, enough to talk.

“I failed Uncle. I’m a fail-.”

Instantly Mario grabbed his nephew by his arms and turned him so faced him directly.

“You are **not** a failure Ezio. Never ever think that!”

With a loud sigh Mario pulled Ezio’s head against his chest and leaned against his desk, free view on the few pages of the Codex they managed to collect.

“You know, I read it in one of the old records but it still rings true: Assassins bring death and earn death; their only reward: the better world for the people.”

“How could I ever make a better world if I cannot even save my brother!”

“Shush, the Pazzi failed, didn’t they? Their fall made the world better for the rest of the people. But what I wanted to tell you: Federico chose this live and he was proud of it. And death can befall any Assassin, any time. It is **not** your fault Ezio.”

“I will never be as good as my brother.”

“No, that you won’t. You’ll be better.”

Ezio looked up puzzled.

“I remember as Federico came to me two years ago. Even without any formal training you already reached a skill-level that had taken him many years to perfect. He was praising you to the moon and back and his laughter was plenty as I showed him something. Maybe it’s time that you see it too.”

Mario felt relive that it caught Ezio’s curiosity, anything was better than the youth’s apathy and pain. He got them both to their feet and moved to the large bookcase when he saw Chiara sitting on the windowsill with a peeved look on her face.

Quickly he walked over and petted her head apologizing.

“My dear would you let yourself be carried by Ezio one last time?”

With little bit of wing flapping she sailed over to Ezio who instinctively held out his arm for her. With a slim smile of satisfaction, he held the look of his nephew and moved without even looking the books to activate the hidden mechanism.

With a groan the bookcase made way to a secret passage.

“Go on, my great-grandfather was not known for doing things half-through.”

 

* * *

 

Penelope had known – _seen_ – that there was something behind all those books, but it never came up before. Now, as excited as herself, Ezio carried her inside down the many stone steps while Mario lit the torches. In the end Ezio stubbed his toes on a short wall and nearly barreled over it if Mario hadn’t caught his shoulder.

One after another the torches were lit and revealed the true beauty of the wide room. Highly detailed statues of Assassin’s sprung from the shadows and revealed their glory – seven in total. But the one in the middle; Penelope forgot to how to breathe.

 

* * *

 

Ezio was caught similarly in the spell, walked around the small wall down the last few steps. Awestruck he approached the statue barred behind locks. Whoever he had been in live, he must’ve been important and the armor placed in front of it was of a design he had not seen before.

“This is Altair Ib’la-Ahad, one of the greatest Mentor’s in the history of the Brotherhood.”

So, this was Altair, an Assassin of old his brother could make whole speeches about.

And he understood.

Understood why his brother must’ve laughed.

His clothes were clearly based on those of the statue and a scar just like his own graced the old Mentor’s lips. On his arm a majestic eagle with its wings spread wide, taking much of the upper space of the alcove. Ezio was just turning his head as a wing smacked in his face.

As he collected himself again Chiara was chirping rather desperately, hanging on the fence. She pushed her right wing through a gap, uncaring for the feathers she lost in the process, and started to…pet the statue’s face?

Carefully and cooing now, she brushed with the feathers that barely reached Altair’s face over the cheeks of his statue.

A view to the side showed that his uncle was just as clueless and baffled as he was over her reaction. In the end she ceased her loving gesture and laid down on the floor.

Ezio hadn’t paid attention to it beforehand but did it now. Filling nearly the whole floor was a mosaic circle of a golden bird and on its chest laid Chiara with her wings open as if she was imitating it. Truly strange – he didn’t know what to make of her behavior.

 

* * *

 

Penelope was glad to fly back again. Seeing Altair’s face again, despite its inaccuracies, brought forth memories. Good memories she was fond of remembering.

But she had to go on, she couldn’t stay in the sanctuary and just stay there. Well she did for a few days; ignoring any food or drink Mario and Ezio brought her of fight them off if they tried to move her away.

But a reoccurring thought came: Leonardo would’ve loved to meet her boys.

It anchored her back into reality. Penelope had been with the artist since she came to Italy, she couldn’t leave him now. Ezio maybe needed a hand – a wing – from time to time but he was cared for. But Leo, he had very people that truly cared for him and could come over on at least a weekly basis to give that affectionate human his much-needed dose of familiarity. Leonardo was just finding roots in Florence again; she couldn’t leave him now.

And that’s what truly got her out of her memory lane and back into the arms of her artist.

Flying over farmland, forest and wide grass planes to the half-hidden shop in Florence.

What she found however surprised her.

He was elbow-deep in papers, what she recognized were Altair’s sketches of her that normally were in Andrea’s possession.

Leonardo made a pause for her, a good round of cuddling after dinner, before returning to whatever he was working on. He took an empty paper, laid it over a sketch and hatched a piece of coal over it revealing hidden lines. Within three days he did it with every sketch he had and puzzled the lines together.

They actually made sense.

It was incomplete but it was instructions for her beak reinforcement.

It took Leonardo not even a month to pick up missing tools and materials to build a few prototypes until he figured out the missing parts of the instructions.

The end result was much prettier than Altair’s, Leonardo had etched a swirly pattern on it, and it was friendlier to her cheeks than the original one.

Seeing herself in the mirror with it on, Penelope realized something important.

She was armed again.

 

* * *

 

Artist and bird were laying on the roof of their shop watching the shadow silhouettes of bats flying around against the night sky as Leonardo jumped up, clapping loudly his hands together effectively scaring of the flying mice of the night.

“That’s it! I have an idea!”

Radiating in his revelation he picked Chiara up and spun her around.

“To recreate individual feathers would make the wings too heavy but if I use sturdy and as light as possible linen, I am maybe able to give a man the ability to fly!”

Leonardo was smiling his brightest smile as he made his way down to the workshop. He put the artificial feathers carefully aside, threw the rest from the desk on the couch and got out some of his larger, still empty papers.

He tried to remember the shape of bats, trying to recreate the pattern until the early hours of the day but his forgone sleep the last night made itself known an he fell asleep on his sketches.

 

* * *

 

Penelope watched fondly Leo fighting sleep. He always insisted to bring out ideas in one setting if possible, uncaring of his necessary body functions. It was routine for her, if he was too deep in his work, that she would get easy things like apples or bread for him out of the kitchen as well as a flask filled with water. After it had happened multiple times already Leonardo had made dents into the sides of the flask as well as a longer leather strap on the cap so she could handle it easier.

Nana nana nana nana Bat-.

No, no reason to bring up memories of the future to remind her how chaotic her life is. She had done the math; basically, she was slowly reaching an age of 50 years and she still felt like the 23 she had been before the start of her big adventure.

But Leonardo needed a reference. The sketches looked all pretty but none were accurate. Hopefully the bats were still up so she didn’t have to wake them – and hopefully their accents weren’t too bad.

It was another thing she had picked up while she was bored. Communicating with any kind of bird was no trouble but it didn’t end there. She could understand other animals as well only the different types of animal seemed to translate to different accents. So that meant some were easy to understand and some interaction was based on heavy guesswork.

She found the bats’ home in the top of the Basilica di Santa Maria Novella. All together they created like a thick dark blanket on the ceiling. She could only push her head through a crack in the walls and peak inside.

“Hello?”

A few eyes turned her way and wings got shuffled.

“My friend likes to build things and wants to make wings based on you guys. Would someone of you volunteer to model for him?”

Her answer was roaring laughter. Not only was she not trying to eat them like nature dictated, she couldn’t be taken seriously this way or Leonardo. She tried to reason with them, but she only was mocked not only for the idea but for her friendship with a _human_. Nobody makes fun of her friends!

“Leonardo is the best friend I could hope for! Gentle, caring, always trying to do things better for all. He is more loyal than any dog and more intelligent than all of you combined.”

The bats ordered her out and she left with her head held high, anger rumbling in her chest.

Penelope was just spreading her wings to fly off as a small voice stopped her.

Out of a small corner crawled a little bat.

“Volunteer. ‘M Injured, but volunteer.”

It opened its left wing were a split went through the membrane. Penelope’s expression softened and she gave it her friendliest smile. She moved so she was standing with her back right below the little guy.

“I’ll carry you.”

Uncertainty shone in the two button eyes, but it led go and landed on her back.

“Y’ fluffy.”

She chuckled and started her way home. The one on her back was squeaking happily and spread his own wings even if they couldn’t truly carry him. From a very old school project she knew that bats were social animals and offered her little friend to sleep under her wing it gladly accepted.

It’s a nifty thing that all liked fluffy feathers.

 

* * *

 

The sun stood high as Leonardo awoke with a bit of coal on his cheek. Finally acknowledging his bathroom-call and hunger he readied himself. A bit of dried meat was still over so he called for Chiara. Nowadays she hunted her food mostly alone, but he knew she enjoyed the dried meat. All the more was it strange that she didn’t came.

Investigating he found her in her nest, but she didn’t move and shook her head in a _no_ as he tried to talk again. To him she didn’t look angry, so he got a stool to take a closer look at what was amiss.

She was leaning to the side and had something under her wing that she lifted for a little bit as he was close.

A bat!

Leonardo could barely keep himself from squealing in delight. He had a reference! A night-active reference. He got food for the next few days and took a nap to be able to work through the night.

~*~

The bat was clearly shy and needed much nudging from Chiara to leave the safety of her wing. The little one was injured! Slowly he reached out to assess the damage, the split in his wing didn’t seem too large so maybe it could recover. Leonardo promptly stated to call him Toni and Toni looked contend with it.

What followed was a nice equivalent exchange.

Leonardo sketched Toni all he wanted and in return cared for the bat until his wing was fully usable.

Time for the next step in his invention.

How exiting.

 

* * *

 

Another year had passed and the name da Vinci slowly made its rounds through Italy. Leonardo’s work started to get so impressive that his newest patron was ready to get him all the way to Venice so he could create work for him.

The prospect of travel was happily accepted only the packing was a fight.

They had one carriage available and only one. What Leo collected over the year however would probably never fit in five, so the artist had to limit himself quite much to only pack the most needed things.

But Leonardo wouldn’t be Leonardo if he didn’t overdo it a bit. He just couldn’t leave the wings behind as well as canvases, linen, cloth and wood and that left very little space for anything else.

In the end the carriage was full to the brim and groaned in each corner they rode. But Leonardo’s good mood was infectious, and she was happily thrilling a melody while flying alongside the carriage.

Clean air, blue sky and a soft breeze: perfect weather to fly.

Sadly, the carriage avenged itself for the strain they put on it and one of the wheels sprung off its axis. Leonardo was nowhere near strong enough to pull the carriage up and fix the wheel, he needed at least another strong person for that.  
Emptying, reattaching the wheel and refilling the carriage would acquire more daytime than they had now so they decided to do it early next morning.

Both of them had snacked a bit and Leo stood up to get the horses out of their heavy contraption as something tingled in the back of Penelope’s mind.

She got airborne and activated her Vision to see what it wanted to tell her.

On the horizon was a little speckle of gold and green and it got bigger by the second. She screeched until she had Leo’s attention before flying off to see who exactly was coming.

It was a rider in Assassin White’s. Ezio.

She sailed down to fly at the side of his galloping horse.

“Hello Chiara. If you’re here Leonardo can’t be far.”

Ezio was right and what followed was the biggest display of human strength the had ever witnessed. He _alone_ managed to heave up the _filled_ carriage long enough for Leo to get the wheel back on and fix its cover.

But she should’ve paid more attention because wherever Ezio goes follows danger. Or he had the unfortune ability to turn up wherever danger was. And todays danger was defined as Borgia send Templar horsemen and riders.

Ezio took the reins and pushed their horses to their limits and she just waited for the moment the carriage fell in two just like in comics but it held. In all the hustle and bustle Leonardo managed to pull out her metal reinforcement and fastened it around her beak.

She was back in business.

And she loved it. Due to the fact that their pursuers were riders on galloping horses she only had to barrel into them or spook their steeds. She maybe kicked 7 off as Ezio gave Leo the reigns back and jumped off the carriage. Leo barely caught his beret before it could fly off with the wind and turned around.

“See you later Ezio? Stay with him Chiara.”

Penelope did and it felt right to truly fight alongside an Assassin once more. It was interesting to see too how different Altair’s and Ezio’s fighting style were. Whereas Altair was deadly grace with the barest minimum of movement, taking his enemies out one by one, Ezio was far grander with his movements, putting much strength behind each blow, taking out multiple enemies at the same time.

The fight ended with a surprisingly young teen with a spear in his hand shaking like the temperature just dropped by twenty degrees. Ezio approached the frozen teen and took the weapon out of his hand, pure terror shining in the young one’s eyes. With the clattering of armor, he fell to his knees and begged Ezio to spare his life.

She and the Assassins didn’t even need to activate the Eagle Vision to see that all red was gone so Ezio’s shoulder sagged down and she landed on his shoulder. The spear was driven into the hard ground beside the kneeling one and Ezio lowered himself to be on the same eye level.

“Stand up and stop working for the Borgia.”

Green eyes started to peak out between the safety of arms.

“But I need the money. Nobody else would hire me.”

“One more reason to stand up.”

Ezio collected him off the floor and stood him upright. He seemed to think about something and pushed a small bundle of coins in the others hand.

“Take the Borgia signs off your armor and ask for Mario Auditore in Montiggioni. Tell him Ezio send you.”

The teen was still frozen however and didn’t move a millimeter. Sighing Ezio took one of the riderless horses standing around and pushed the reigns into his hand before getting his own to follow Leonardo.

The rest of the way was uneventful, and they met up with Leonardo in Forli at the docks. Ezio wasn’t allowed to board the ship with them but just as he had promised he met them again in Venice; gone as soon as their tour guide Alvise was done.

 

* * *

 

It took Leonardo a week to unpack their things, sadly they weren’t allowed to change much of the existing interior mobiliary, forcing Penelope to search for a new way to nest. In the end she squished herself between the top of a wardrobe and the ceiling.

Comfortably settled she started to scout the area. In terms of architecture Venice was eye candy but not so much for the nose – and she did not smell very much. It was the strongest contrast between rich beauty and poor shabbiness. On one hand colorful clothes and dresses while a poor sod was dying of hunger in the next alley.

She fished a bit for him.

But she knew he was only one of many. Penelope turned homewards as he saw a white shadow jumping over the roofs. So far, she didn’t know what Ezio was up to so why not look?

On a second view however, he was being chased! With a mighty cry she dropped out of the sky, aiming for the unprotected head of the closest pursuer.

“Chiara _STOP_!!”

After Ezio’s shout she barely managed to turn by and miss the man’s eye by a hair width who was shouting bloody murder. The whole group stopped, and she accepted the Assassin’s offered arm.

“They are all friendly Chiara. They are from the local thief’s guild and challenged me to a race over the rooftops.”

It was reassuring, that Ezio wasn’t in danger but created an awkward situation. The thief she had attacked gave her understandably a stink eye and the others looked weary. Penelope couldn’t say that she was sorry and offered a white down feather for a truce.

Cautiously and looking to Ezio for confirmation, the thief came closer and held out his hand so she could place the feather on it.

After that all around visibly relaxed.

“I’m sorry for my friend Ugo. Normally only enemies run after me so she must’ve thought I could use some help. She is very protective.”

“As long as it doesn’t happen again, no harm done.”

A thief in reddish clothes came forward and inspected the feather in the hand of the Guild Leader.

“Don’t let Marcello see the feather Ugo or it’ll be gone when you are not looking.”

“That boy has too much feathers in his head already.”

Ezio as well as her didn’t know what was going on but Ugo was kind enough to elaborate.

“We got a new thief some while back from Florence – maybe you’ve seen each other, quite a young thing – and he adores birds. It’s not unusual to see him on some roof covered in doves and other birds.”

“Okay?”

 

* * *

 

It took Penelope a bit until she understood what Ezio was here for and as she did an insane plan was already in motion.

Deep into the night Artist and Assassin carried the _Flying Machine_ out of the workshop and heaved it up Venice’s rooftops with the help of some thieves. Ezio made an amazing picture carrying the wings but she knew that they were heavy – definitely too heavy for long distances.

But Ezio did it despite her trying to stop him by standing in his path; he did a Leap of Faith and ran off the roof. And it did work for a few seconds. Sadly, Ezio balanced wrong and took a nosedive ending the flight within 30 seconds.

Penelope was so, so glad for the crazy luck Assassin’s seemed to have while falling – the closest thing to flying they managed to do. Altair had never thought about when he could or could not jump, just as Malik, Kadar, Rauf even Abbas. It truly was a Leap of Faith every time and as long as they had faith, she never saw an Assassin missing a save landing place.

The Flying Machine was caught by a tree and Ezio was thrown into the nearby mountain of leaves. It was a somber way back home and she was only relieved that no one got hurt or injured.

Leonardo, only seeing the failure tore in a rarely seen fit of anger a construction paper off the table and scrunched it together with all his might before chunking it into the fire.

His chest was moving visibly with every agitated breath he took and Ezio had taken a surprised step backwards, but the artist had only eyes for the remains of the paper. Small flamy flocks of it were dancing above the fire.

“That’s it! Fire!”

Leonardo’s mood made a 180 and basically jumped laughing into Ezio’s arms.

~*~

Here we go again.

Seeing that she couldn’t stop Ezio from using the Flying Machine she decided to help him as much as she could. Leading him, stopping archers from shooting down a _demon_ – if the flight succeeded.

Necklace taken off, covered in brown and reinforcement on she stood on the edge of the roof waiting for Ezio. Leonardo helped him to readjust the straps for one last time and gave the ok to start.

Bonfires were lit up everywhere like the beacons of Minas Tirith and she could feel the shift in the air as Ezio’s resolve steeled. Penelope was airborne just a second before him and started to lead him to the Palazzo Ducale. She flapped as little as she could to show Ezio how to balance best and it worked. The insane plane of them _worked_.

She could’ve done somersaults of happiness!

 The heat of the bonfires created enough draft for the contraption to stay in the air and be a sign of innovation. Startled soldiers and archers cried out in shock, claiming the devil was out to get them and the few brave enough to take a shot at the flying man were taken down quickly by her.

The mission itself was sadly a bust in the end and Ezio was declared the most wanted man of Venice but somehow…Penelope didn’t regret the outcome one bit.

 

* * *

 

 

_I wish my brother could see me.  
Do you watch over me, Federico?_

_Better keep watch on Petruccio._  
_Tell him of a nice and kind world he never got to know._  
 _Or make sure that Father does not worry too much._  
 _Mother and Claudia are on the mend._

_Maybe even have an eye on the young stranger;  
he looked like he needed a brother._

_Be fine wherever you are without any regrets._

_Because my only one is, not telling you all_  
_how much you mean to me_  
_as often as I should have._

 

 


	19. Do you like Chiara? (8/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyho everyone, hopefully you have/had good a good day.  
> I dusted the cobwebs of [my DeviantArt acc](https://www.deviantart.com/kira-katashi) and made a complete restart. Now, I uploaded and will upload digital sketches to this FF [here](https://www.deviantart.com/kira-katashi/gallery/69938183/assassin-s-creed-the-masayaf-eagle). Currently there isn’t much in the gallery but there is more coming so stay tuned. I’ll only embed pictures here directly into the fic if they are a “full“ artworks. Fell free to chat me up over there if you have questions or just want to chat.  
> Happy reading!

It had been a while since a friendly face came into Leonardo’s workshop and it reflected harshly on the little social butterfly.   
He grew more and more antsy, his already high running thoughts sped up even faster but at the same time he wanted to lay down and do nothing.

His heart felt like a heavy burden and he was tired beyond measure despite sleeping more than ever.

The canvas in front of him didn’t want to be filled; couldn’t decide what it shall become.

With a loud sigh he swung his feet off the couch’s backrest and returned into a proper sitting position.

A plant with many tiny blue flowers and large summer-green lea-  
\- a Human! Strong, muscular with coal black hair and honey-brown eyes…

No, that wouldn’t do either.

Birds!  
But he had so many of them.

Speaking of birds, Chiara bumped into his leg and half-stood on the water flask, looking at him expectantly.

Leonardo sighed loudly and pulled her up instead of the offered drink and pulled her deep into his arms and buried his face in her soft feathers. He knew that she was nearly daily fishing somewhere but still, her feathers didn’t smell like fish or salt. Chiara smelled mostly like a fresh breeze after a summer rain with just a tiny hint of incense and spices he couldn’t fully place.

“Why do you stay with me Chiara?”

She was clearly as intelligent as a human and he had nothing to offer that she wouldn’t get elsewhere. He bet that Ezio would welcome her with open arms, care for her and keep her busy. Why should she stay with him? Chiara reveled in every task she got from the Brotherhood.

“Why should you bother to come back to me…OUCH!”

Chiara just gave him a headbutt that rattled his brain! With a cry filled with indignation she freed herself from his hold and flew over to the desk. Startled Leonardo wanted to follow her, but she screeched at him until he ceased trying to sit up.

He could only watch, rooted to his spot, as she made herself space on the otherwise filled desk and pull out paint and paper from all around. Finally, while she was busy painting, he was allowed to leave the couch and approach her without gaining an ear-splitting screech.

Chiara was once more drawing people, the same ones she had done a few years ago but prettier. It was interesting to observe how she worked around the fact that she didn’t have hands and had to work with what was her mouth and how she had to dance around to drag neither feet nor tail through the still wet paint.

With a bit of yellow and white she finished the puppet human and he thought she was done but she went back and dipped a somewhat clean brush in the green paint and started to work on the space between the smallest, mostly grey clothed person and the couple.

It took him embarrassingly much time until he recognized that she was painting _him_ between those people. He felt a bit flattered but dared not to hope; however, what she did next did not only proof her intelligence further but brought tears into his eyes too:

Chiara had painted everyone in the upper half of the picture, he didn’t think that this was truly an artistic choice, but it was – in the lower space she started writing. It was very straight and without décor, but he recognized the letters.

F – A – M – I – G – L – I – A

_Famiglia_ ; Family.

Happy tears streamed down the artist’s face and he embraced his bird despite her coverings in wet paint.

 

* * *

 

Once more Leonardo and her would change their workplace, temporary. The monastery of Santa Marie delle Grazie had requested Leonardo for a painting and he accepted. This time they were only travelling with one horse instead of a carriage. The monastery would provide them anything they needed, so besides clothes and a bit of paper and coals nearly everything was left in Venice until their return.

Unless one counted a rain shower as a problem, they arrived problemless in Milan and were showed what they would work on. It was the end-wall of the monastery’s dining hall which should be filled with the story as depicted in the Gospel of John, 13:21.

She had no clue what this meant and had to let herself be surprised with what Leonardo would make of it but as soon as he did the first sketches came the enlightenment. A long table with thirteen people sitting behind it. Penelope would witness the process of Leonardo’s _The Last Supper_!

Sometimes she forgot that Leonardo created or would create in a few years into the future some of the most famous paintings in the world and she had the front row seat to each one of them.

She didn’t know what Leonardo used but he made sure that the cracks between the stones were gone and he had one smooth surface to work on. Due to its size and Leonardo’s love for detail it took a long, _long_ time to bring it to completion. Sadly, the people didn’t truly understand, that what they wanted required a time-consuming process and started to pressure the artist to work faster.

And he was working fulltime already!

After quite many commissions beforehand hadn’t been finished, Leonardo set himself the goal to finish this one and did only very few other drawings and paintings to de-cramp his brain. Giampietrino was a much-needed breath of fresh air being an art enthusiast and ongoing artist himself, but he was the only one out of a group of many that did go immensely on Leonardo’s nerves.

To distract himself in a productive way Leonardo actually allowed her to help him painting the innards of larger same-colored spaces when nobody was looking. Penelope felt giddy every time. Nobody would ever know but she helped in this famous painting.

Leonardo’s nerves exploded eventually as they accused him of delaying the finish as he was struggling to find a good translation between his mental picture of Judas and the person he painted on the wall.

Loudly cursing he picked her up and walked with a fast step outside into the city despite the voices calling after him. He didn’t even stay in the city, he left the walls and walked into the surrounding greenery.

In the shade of a large willow he petted her and calmed down slowly. It was peaceful. After a while he held her over his head, so they were face-to-face.

“I have to go back, don’t I?... ‘said I finish this to myself not those, those… _children_!”

After that he wanted to go back immediately but she stopped him until the sun was setting. Leonardo desperately needed the break. And shortly before they reached the monastery a man walked past them that seemed to look quite the Judas Leonardo envisioned because the artist asked him to model tomorrow for him.

The people of the monastery were like a bunch of scared chicken and apologized profusely as he returned. He ignored them all and went to the room that had been given to him to sleep.

~*~

A few days later the man they had stopped on the streets truly came and sat on a stool for a few hours until Leonardo had the most important things painted down and not too much later Leonardo worked on the last few details and was visibly relieved as he could lay down the brush, collect his payment and return to his workshop in Venice.

 

* * *

 

Penelope watched with mixed feelings as Leonardo created another gadget for Ezio. After delivering a letter from the artist to Lorenzo she had made a small stop to see how the Auditore were fairing. All but Ezio were in the villa and looked alright. She god fed, took a small nap and got another encrypted Codex page to bring Leo which he was currently working on.

It was a small firearm.

Undoubtedly useful for Ezio if he hadn’t to go close to dispatch guards and whatnot but she knew the future, she knew how powerful guns will become. But she did not interrupt Leonardo. Any invention had it’s up and downside and could be used for good and bad. Just because one was afraid, it was no justification to stop technical progress, she just had to make sure that these plans would never fall into hands outside of the Brotherhood.

“Now we only need Ezio and his strong arm.”

 

* * *

 

It was as if he had been summoned. Just a few days after Leo completed the _Hidden Gun_ as far as he could without an Assassin’s bracer, Ezio nocked on their door in the night. They had been packing the worst chaos away when they led him in.

And Leonardo couldn’t wait of course and had to complete the gadget right there and now. That his head dipped down in exhaustion every once in a while, didn’t bother him even if Ezio wanted him to rest. He just finished the last strap and succumbed to the song of sleep.

Now with arms full of a sleeping Artist Ezio looked with a lost expression to her. With a sigh she emerged from her nest and motioned him to follow. With ease he carried the artist upstairs and gently laid Leonardo down in his bed. He only didn’t anticipate the cuddliness of the blond and fell over as he subconsciously refused to let go of Ezio.

Penelope could only chuckle on the inside and hopped onto the bed’s edge to nudge the Assassin to surrender to the octopus and catch up on sleep. The shadows under his eyes told of his little rest and how much he needed a decent night of sleep.

She would watch over them.

~*~

The morning between the two was rather awkward; but both slept well, and this was nothing to regret. So, after a few minutes of stumbling around each other they found themselves back in their easy-going friendship.

That Leonardo had finished the gun was rather convenient. Ezio had his eyes on Marco Barbarigo and wanted to use the upcoming carnival as a distraction to come close to his target. He would use the day to get used to his new weapon and plan his approach.

Not one to stay in one place Ezio thanked Leonardo and disappeared out of the shop as quick as he came.

Leonardo had his hands on his hips and looked with a gentle shake of his hand after the other. Then he clapped his hands together and turned towards her.

“Ezio had the right idea. It’s time to make the masks my dear. Think, you’ll be ok if I make you one too?”

Penelope shrugged; she didn’t care.

“Then let’s start!”

In the end it weren’t only masks for them two, quite many people started to peak into the workshop and asked if he could fashion them one too. He probably finished ten by the time the carnival came around.

Leonardo made sure to clean up nicely and get any resemblance of dirt out of her feathers. Beret and cape were left at home and on was put a mask with a beak that matched the one he had made for her. In her opinion they made a beautiful picture, the green of Leonardo’s tunic a tad bit darker than normal creating a nice contrast to the white-goldish seams.

It was actually the first carnival she would participate in Venice even if she had the chance four times already – she had been on delivery-flights or scouting missions and couldn’t attend the festival. Back home in modern times carnival had been one of her favorite festivities as a child besides Christmas and Birthdays – the colorful costumes and jovial mood always cheered her up. It would be an interesting experience to compare the times; if something remained from “old times” or if the modern carnival had nothing to do with what she would experience in roundabout an hour.

~*~

Italian’s surely knew how to party! Colorful lanterns brightened up the night, there was music around every corner and people danced jolly on every larger free space dressed in the colors of the rainbow. In some corners people showed off card tricks and juggled with the most ridiculous things. One juggled with five shoes while balancing the sixth on his nose with the head tilted back.

One brave boy of maybe seven years approached Leonardo and asked if she was friendly and let herself be petted. Leonardo gave her a questioning look and she nodded approvingly – she couldn’t resist children.

Other children, seeing that the boy was allowed to pet her started to appear behind the wide dresses of their mothers and family friends. In the end, Leonardo was crouching, surrounded by an eager crowd of children. She had fun between all those happy faces and dismissed some strokes that went against her feather growth.

With the advance of the night the children were one after another send home to sleep and Leonardo could finally stand up again. Now adults started to crowd around him asking where he acquired her and what she needed and how she could be so well behaved and many, many more questions that Leonardo could barely answer because they came so quickly.

The artist started to adjust her seating position more often by the minute, growing tired because his little sleep the last few nights came back to bite him in the butt. She took pity on him and faked to fall asleep on his arms, so he had to catch her as she let herself fall forward, making him catch her. Leonardo took the clue and excused himself.   
It was actually not a moment too early because from behind them the rumors about Barbarigo’s death started to appear.

So, they walked relaxed back and enjoyed the fireworks against the starlit firmament on the roof of their home.

 

* * *

 

Leonardo was currently working on his maybe sixth or seventh Codex Page but seemed troubled. She made herself comfortable on his lap and took a look at what he was doing. Not only had he the new bits of translation out, he had his side notes from the other ones too; all spread in front of him.

“The pages seem to tell a larger story together. I think that is something Ezio needs to know. Would you be kind enough and find him for me?”

Of course, she would. She led the way while Leonardo followed her on foot through the streets. They found him and Rosa in a harbor. It looked like the two were flirting but Leo was too excited to care to wait a few long moments and interrupted, urging Ezio to come with him.

~*~

Assassin and Artist stood around the table with the Codex-mess on it.

_The Prophet will appear when the second piece is brought to the floating city._

That is the message Leonardo pieced together through the pages or the notes on the pages available to him. All three of them were wracking their brains over the meaning as Ezio started swearing. Both of them looked at the Assassin and silently demanded answers.

“My uncle recited another prophecy hidden within the Codex Pages of a vault that hides something of immense power.”

“But when the pages come from Rodrigo Borgia…”

“…Then he may already know about it! That’s why they send the ship to Cyprus. The Templar Conspiracy was a distraction! The attack on my family all part of one big plan! The ship is back tomorrow!”

Hastily Ezio pulled the few things he had taken off when he came in back on and ran to the door. Penelope wanted to follow him, but he told her to stay put, there was nothing she could do to help him without drawing views – and that Ezio didn’t need. Templar grew weary over large birds in the sky in the resent months.

She huffed and gave him a peeved huff because she was brushed aside in such a manner but Ezio was gone too fast to see the expression.

“Come on Chiara, let’s eat something.”

~*~

The next day someone knocked on the door. It already started to get dark outside so this would be an unusual time for a customer.

Armed with the kitchen knife Leonardo made his way over to the door, before she could check the situation, and carefully opened the door just enough to see who it was. In his trademark reddish clothes was no other than La Volpe.

Quickly Leo put the knife away and let him inside.

“Good afternoon Leonardo, I am here for Chiara. Ezio is currently getting himself into trouble and we want to formally welcome Ezio into the Brotherhood. Can we have her for the today?”

“Eh…sure, if she wants to.”

Penelope only got her reinforcement and made a stop at the wardrobe – below the wardrobe to be exact to dull her feathers at least for a little bit with dust. She trilled her goodbye and followed the fox through the streets of Venice.

Even from afar she could her the clashing of metal.

_“Your people failed to show up Assassin.”_

It took her a moment to spot Ezio in his guard disguise, but she flew into the fray. And she wasn’t the only one. It was probably the first time in a long time but all main members of the Italian Brotherhood where here to help out the youngest Assassin and started to appear out of the shadows. Rodrigo and his guards looked for a second uncertain but did not back down and attacked again with more fervor. The fight however dipped more and more to the favor of the Assassins and with Rodrigo’s mad cries about how he is the true prophet Ezio started to half-converse with them who or what could be meant with it and how much the others had fun fighting together.

As the last of his men standing, Rodrigo kicked Ezio in the gut and turned tail.

Paola helped the baffled Ezio up and the others started to crowd around him. Ezio had wanted to pursue Rodrigo but the others stopped him, they had what they wanted – the Apple. Penelope saw the box that was coded as golden, but this wasn’t the focus right now, the focus was Ezio. She made herself comfortable on the shoulders of La Volpe.

“What are you all doing here?”

Machiavelli appeared behind the backs of the others.

“Perhaps the same thing you are, Ezio. Hoping to see the Prophet appear.”

“I came here to kill the Spaniard. I couldn’t care less about your prophet…he never showed up!”

“No, but you did.”

Ezio Auditore was the foretold Prophet. Penelope had not much to do with the whole prophecy thing but from what she knew it made sense. He was, after all, the one to manifest the strongest Eagle Vision since at least two generations, a thing that had Isu written all over it and if it was an Isu-prophecy…so yeah.

“You’re all Assassins?!”

It was a fact so close to his face that he never noticed. _Hiding in plain sight._

Antonio ordered him to be back when the sun set again and turned to go as well as the others. La Volpe kept a not-unbreakable but firm grip on her talons to keep her from following Ezio – he would need a moment _alone_ to digest everything.

~*~

She watched the ceremony on the low wall of the tower and cringed at the butchered Arabic of Mario – even worse than Leo’s. But they’ve done a very good job at laying out the Creed.

_Where other man blindly follow the truth, remember…_

_…Nothing is true._

_Where other man are limited, by morality or law, remember…_

_…Everything is permitted._

Altair had interpreted the Creed quite literal and had nearly done unrepairable damage – to some degree he had; _Kadar_ – but he came out better in the end. The brandmark on the finger was in her opinion a good way too to honor old times but adapt to newer circumstances.

A missing ring finger is something people easily recognized and remembered.

One after another jumped out of the tower in Leaps of Faith until only Ezio remained. He massaged the area around his branded finger and looked to her.

“You knew?”

She nodded.

Penelope sailed over to the edge facing the haystack. It was rather strange for her to do so but she stood at the edge, opened her wings and let herself fall forward; folding the wings up as she went down to not catch wind and landed safely in the hay where Paola was kind enough to fish her out to make way for Ezio.  

 

* * *

 

Penelope felt the power radiation from the rather innocent looking, glowing ball on the desk. She knew without the others telling what it is that this is the _Apple_ , a _Piece of Eden_.

She harbored a rather large hatred against it now that she saw it again. Because of that thing Al Mualim beat Altair black and blue and was only barely defeated while she had lain injured and immobile because of it on the sidelines, unable to help her friend.

The four men – Ezio, Mario and Machiavelli who were looking at Leonardo surrounded the Artifact. Hide it, she thought, keep it where nobody could ever reach it, but it was too deeply intertwined with the Assassin-Templar history. If Assassin’s wouldn’t find it, Templar would and those would use it definitely not for a good cause.

To understand was to study.

So, she had to let all men stay in the vicinity of this accursed object.

It did nothing until Ezio touched it and then it did _much_. Pictures of the past, promises of a future; possibilities over possibilities – so many that she had to curl together to block the onslaught out.

Ezio was the one who had to deactivate it again, while he and Leo stood upwards wide eyed at what they had seen, Mario and Machiavelli held their heads and were on their knees.

Now they all agreed that it had to be hidden away were no one would find it and only Ezio was the one to do so.

Penelope’s heart was still hammering in her chest as the Assassins left their home and her view fell on Leonardo. He had a somber expression on his face, unusual devoid of emotions. As he saw her gaze, he came to her, but something was off in his gait.

Leonardo came to her, picked her up and held out on eye level. His eyes wandered down and she instinctively followed: on her tummy were little specs of gold!

With a sighed he closed his eyes for a moment before fixating her with his blue pools again.

“I know I named you Chiara but… but this isn’t _your_ name, is it? Why did you never say something **Risha**?”


	20. Do you like Chiara? (9/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyho everyone 😊  
> I was positively surprised by all of your reactions to Leo figuring out that Chiara and Risha are one and the same bird. (@OokamiKasumi: thanks to you there probably will be an Assassin’s Creed: Duck Edition. After Leonarduck da Vinci I figured out one could do it with basically everyone. Ezio Auducktore, Altair Ibn’la-Aduck, Ratonhnhakèduck…you get my point.)  
> And not only are the 1k hits surpassed I now have more than a 100 Kudos – something I was unsure if I ever reach it; thank you very much.  
> Would you be interested if I made a fanfiction that collects snippets and short-stories I left out of this story?   
> Have a good day,  
> Kira  
> (self-beta’d)

_“I know I named you Chiara but… but this isn’t your name, is it? Why did you never say something **Risha**_ _?”_

Penelope froze; how could Leonardo know this? And the hurt… _betrayal_ in his eyes was like a sword to the chest. He took her reaction as a confirmation – what it was – and sat her onto the desk with a defeated sigh and walked away from her. Just as he was about to walk out the door he froze in his steps.

“I knew it. I knew there was something different about you. You can fucking understand me! **You _wrote_ for Christ’s sake!**”

Penelope felt the vibrations as Leonardo’s fist the doorway.

“But you never thought about telling me that you are Risha in all our years together? The Apple showed me the past and the people fit your paintings perfectly. You’re _the_ Risha that flew at Altair’s side?”

Penelope rose her wings to do something, _anything_. It resulted only in Leonardo turning around pointing accusingly into her direction.

“And don’t you tell me that this had to be kept secret. You were there as Volpe told me the stories; you sat on my lap the whole time!... Did he know, did _anyone_ know?”

She shook her head in a _no_ but did not dare to look at the angered man.

Silence stretched between them for a long time that was even longer felt. Then steps on the wooden floor but she still did not look up; Leonardo understandably needed space. How long exactly – she didn’t want to think about.

“Dammit!”

Leonardo ran back inside and pulled her deeply into his arms.

“I am sorry… how should you say something like that? The church does not like my advances in inventions how should you explain the fact that this is not even your _time_. Sorrysorry _sorry_ ….”

With a weight of tons off her chest she buried herself deeper into the embrace.

 

* * *

 

Penelope wanted to tell Leonardo _everything_. From beginning to end. If the Apple had shown him some bits of her past than he probably had shown him bits of the future too only that he wouldn’t connect these back to her because she was human there.

In the past few days he had been once more elbow deep in drawings and sketches, processing what knowledge had been revealed to him. But that too meant that much paper and paint was around.

She made herself some space in a corner to stare some time at an empty paper. How should she do this best? People and dates were her best bet.

At first came her parents and herself as a human.

…how did she had looked like?

She had blond hair…just like if someone had mixed the shades of her parent’s blondes, Mama being darker. And blue eyes. Tad bit on the grey side.

Penelope was surely taller than her Mama but was she smaller or just as tall as Papa?

She had forgotten.

Forgotten.

Fuck! She just made herself as tall as her father.

She wrote 2012 below it.

Then she made a long line and painted Desmond and the Being below it.

Next came Altair and… there was no space left on the paper.

With a frustrated huff she searched for new paper and considering the daylight that was left she carefully moved some of the candles Leonardo had already lit so their light reached her corner.

She pushed the papers together and drew Malik and Kadar besides Altair. On a second thought she added the silhouette of a bird so she could point on it while she tried to explain that the bird and the human were one and the same. 1180 was written below it.

And at the end, after another long line she drew Leonardo and another bird silhouette.

All in all, it looked good enough. Not much paint had been smeared around by either her feet or tail and it was the best she could produce to show Leo her story. A view to her friend showed that he was still working in deep concentration – she couldn’t bother him now.

Penelope felt the little sleep that she had in her bones and was tired. That she already had the golden specks on her tummy because of one encounter with the Apple bothered her immensely, she did not want to disappear so early out of Leo’s life, especially not now.

With a sigh she flew up to her nest and fell asleep to the sound of Leonardo shuffling around.

 

* * *

 

The artist was staring at her painting as she awoke, crouching in the corner. Hesitant she sailed down to his side and tried to decipher Leo’s face. Lips were pressed into a thin line and his eyes were strangely shiny.

She couldn’t say what he was feeling.

Without looking at her he asked what she wanted to tell him, his voice ruff as if he hadn’t drunk in a few days. Maybe he hadn’t, she hadn’t got him his flask after all. Subconsciously trying to postpone it, she got aforementioned flask and pushed it into his hands.

“What do you want to tell me?”

With a huff, Penelope steeled her shoulders and walked to the other side of the painting. With her left wingtip she pointed at the bird silhouette beside the rough painting of Leo and held her right wing to her chest.

She remained in that position until he nodded. Then she moved on to her Levantine boys and did the same thing there: one wing on the bird, the other on herself. Another nod from Leo and she moved to the modern times; her parents.

Right wing to her chest, left wing to the girl besides the couple.

Leonardo took in a harsh breath.

“This is you,” he pointed to the bird on his right – she nodded, “this is you,” he placed a finger on the bird right in front of him, “and this,” he placed a hand on her still outstretched wing, “this is you too?”

She could only nod. Leo led all the remaining air out of his lungs and took off his beret to nearly nervously brush through his hair. His eyes darting back and forth between the dates.

“You want to tell me that not only did you have lived before this time, you lived in the future before you have lived before this time and you were _human_?!... This is pretty messed up you know?”

Another nod.

“How is that even possible?”

She pointed to Desmond and the being to show the gist; Penelope couldn’t explain it more for she did not now how everything exactly worked. Leonardo was clearly mulling over his thoughts.

“Wait a minute…does this mean you know what will happen the next years, decades or is this to far back to from your future?”

The first time since a long time, she denied something. She had never been a good student in history, just good enough to not catch attention for bad grades. Somewhat embarrassingly, they had talked about Leonardo da Vinci, but she could remember nothing else then what he looked like in their books.

“I’ll…need a moment.”

His eyes darted everywhere other than her and he stood up hastily and left the room.

Penelope felt defeated.  
Had it been a good idea to reveal her basically jumping around in time? Could a time-paradoxon-whatever develop now like they are sometimes explained in Sci-Fi stories? Did she just create an alternative dimension? Was it even possible to change a future she didn’t know how it came to be safe for a few things that came in 100+ years?

Or was her time-travelling already included in her future?

A massive headache was incoming, and she flopped to the floor. And that’s how she spend her day. Laying on the floor like a puddle of misery being a puddle of dark thought. Towards the evening her belly notified hunger, but her muse didn’t want to move so she did not. As the sunset’s red started to fade into the night dark-blue Leonardo wasn’t back and that increased the felt pressure on her chest tenfold.

Did Leonardo even want to keep her?

She waited another hour and another… and another. Leo still wasn’t back, and the moon stood high, light muffled by thick clouds. With a heavy heart she got on her feet and moved to the window. After a bit of shuffling she managed to slip out of her necklace and left it on the sill. She opened the window far enough to slip outside and with a last glance at the shop she got airborne.

Penelope didn’t want to chase Leo out of his home with her presence, he shouldn’t feel uncomfortable with her around. She would look inside maybe in a few days again, seeing if he still wanted to have something to do with her but for now, she would disappear out of his life.

 

* * *

 

For the umpteenth time Leonardo wrung the water out of his beret. He hadn’t realized that he was that sleepy as he went outside to clear his head where Venice met the open water, ships dancing on the now black blanket. Leaned against a stone wall, hearing the gentle waves breaking he fell asleep and was torn out of his slumber when it started to rain and not just drops here and there, it was like someone constantly emptied buckets from high above.

Leonardo hadn’t planned to be gone that long and was lucky to know his way by heart or he would’ve been lost without a light. At least the streets were emptied of any kind of person thanks to the weather. Soaked through to the bones and shivering Leonardo was finally home and walked inside with a relieved sigh.

He stumbled over a box as he was on a hunt for a candle but managed to catch himself on an edge of something. After a bit of fumbling around the candle was lit and brought light into the darkness.

“Risha?”

Leonardo was whispering, not wanting to wake her if she was asleep. Her nest however was empty. Now louder he called for her but never got an answer. Dread pooled into his gut; now he was crying her name and ripped opened any wardrobe, door, whatever he could find that could work as a hiding place for her.

Then something reflected on the windowsill.

With a shaking hand he picked the bloodred band with the silver clasp up and fell to his knees.

Risha was gone. Chiara was gone.

His best friend was gone.

_Nonononono._ That was unacceptable, she couldn’t be gone just like that!

He abandoned his cape and beret that were just dead weight on him with all the soaked up water and heaved himself back onto his feet. Leonardo would find her!

He stormed back into the rain, the candle out within seconds. Carelessly he threw it to the feet of his door and started to run through the wet and dark streets of Venice.

Leonardo called out for her over and over and over and _over_.

Nothing.

Heaving heavily, he had to make a pause and catch his breath. On top of the next house was a pigeon coop; maybe, just maybe they could help. In Florence they had been over in the shop – his as well as Verrocchio’s – often enough.

There was no ladder, but he was determined.   
The wet stones didn’t help either and he slipped.

It hurt so _much,_ and he luckily hadn’t fallen far. But he felt his landing all the way up his spine and it nocked the wind out of him. Tears welled up in his eyes and got carried away by the rain as he laid on his back spread like a starfish. Frustrated, he gritted his teeth together and stood up hissing loundly.

Leonardo looked accusingly at the wall but started his climb anew. Not wanting to fall again and seriously injure himself, it took him more time than he wanted to spend on the way up and all limbs felt like jelly as he reached the coop filled with slumbering pigeons and doves.

“Have you seen a large white bird? I am searching for my friend. Please, help me. _Please_.”

Several sleepy eyes stared at him.

“Rish-, Chiara. I am searching for Chiara. Have you seen her?”

The first dove started to chirp and more joined in until the whole flock was tweeting and trilling back and forth between each other. After a few minutes a half a dozen came out and sat themselves down on the edge of the rooftop.

Slowly he approached and they flow down onto the streets – a sign for him to follow. Uncertain he looked down and found himself above a haycart. Ezio did it often enough after all? It looked at least relatively easy when the Assassin jumped. Graceful as if gravity was embracing him – not tearing him down like anything else; keeping a human up as long as humanly possible.

Leonardo had to find Chiara and that way down would save a lot of time. Walking a few steps back to ready himself he started to run.

And he stopped at the edge.

He wasn’t Ezio and his backside was already hurting.

Cursing about his lost minutes, he layawayed his way back down again and started to run after the doves. He lost track of where he was and just followed them through the streets, sometimes slipping on the wet pavement but to his relieve, managing without a tumble to the floor. His vision started to swim at the edges and his breath started to hurt like a thousand needles in his throat but he ran on until they stopped at what he later identified as the Basilica dei Frari.

Without dirt in her feathers she was like a beacon sitting on a cant. She looked as miserable as he felt. Even puffed up she was shaking despite being relatively sheltered against the buildings wall.

Relieve flooded him and he ran the last few steps until he was directly below her.

“I am so sorry Chiara, I am not angry with you. _Please don’t leave me alone_!”

Two golden orbs flashed up and he opened his arms to show that he was serious. He opened them as far as he could in hopes that she would accept it and find a home in his arms once more.

Something smacked against him with a wet clap and he closed his arms instinctively around it. Unsure Leonardo opened his eyes he didn’t even noticed closing; there she was, wet but back in his arms. Beyond happy he started laughing and spun around with her.

All was again as it should be.

~*~

After the night in relative cold and wetness Leo caught a light cold but his immune system was strong and he was in good spirit – better in no time at all.

And they somewhat came to an agreement. It didn’t matter who she had been, right now she was Chiara. And Chiara was Leonardo’s bird and friend. _Risha_ was her past. _Penelope_ didn’t matter currently.

The only thing that changed was, that he treated her even more as if she were human and her paintings were burned to erase any evidence. And sometimes he asked a few questions regarding the things the Apple told him, but those ceased as he noticed that she truly did not know how they worked.

 

* * *

 

“You know Chiara, with all those golden freckles you remind me of an owl.”

 

* * *

 

Artist and bird were once again in Milan for some smaller commissions here. They actually had bought a small vineyard near the Porta Vercellina to have a workplace considering how often they were in the area.

“Why are you sitting here again?”

And there was this little devil. Gian - _followedbyatoolongname_ \- was the young son of one of the tenants that lived here too. With his golden locks he looked like an angle but had the temper of anything but. He was a brat that always wanted to have everything.

He threw an hour-long tantrum as she refused to let herself be petted by him after he had pulled a small feather out of her back. A true devil in disguise.

“Good morning to you too Gian. I am still painting. A good painting needs its time and can’t be rushed.”

“Looks boring.”

“Have you ever given it a try?”

“No?”

Leonardo shuffled a bit to the side to make a bit of space on the low stone wall he was sitting on and patted it to motion Gian to sit beside him. The about nine years old climbed up and looked at the artist expectantly. Leonardo put his current work aside and got papers and coals out of his bag to his feet. Gian got one of each into his hand.

“With art we try to capture the world around us and sometimes tell tales people have never seen before. Let’s start with the tree over there.”

And ho and behold: the boy sat still for an hour barely speaking! And one could actually make out that he drew this tree who was bend strongly under the weight of time.

“Very good first try Gian.”

“Mine doesn’t look as good as yours!”

The boy puffed his cheeks angrily.

“Nobody is born with a pen in his hand. I have spent many years learning this craft. You know what, come back tomorrow and we do it again.”

With a huff Gian gave Leonardo his things back and walked away with arms crossed. Leo and Penelope could only shake their heads at that.

~*~

Unsurprisingly Gian wasn’t back the next day and Leonardo made himself comfortable on his usual spot. He got out some papers to sketch some of the flowers but was strangely unable to find his coals. None were in the bag and he hadn’t emptied it yesterday.

Slightly perturbed the two started searching for them; Penelope finding them easily…in the hands of Gian who was hiding on the other side of the house trying to draw some still green grapes.

“You cannot take my things without asking Gian!”

The boy jumped up in surprise and froze only for a second before grapping everything and running away.

“Gian! You… _Saladino_ stop right now young man!”

The answer was laughing.

~*~

“Can you teach me?”

Gian stormed into their small flat as loud as an elephant.

“After you’ve taken my things?”

“I needed to see if it was something I wanted to do.”

Leonardo sighed.

“We can give it a try. I have some time tomo-.”

“Okay, see you outside in a minute!”

“ _Saladino_!”

More laughing.

~*~

Gian was staring at Penelope as she moved into position as Leonardo told her to.

“How did you train your bird this way?”

“I did not. Chiara is one of my best and oldest friends, she’s been living with me since she was a small chick.”

The boy was still peeved about the no-toughing policy and it showed very clearly. Leonardo gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“Gian you have to know that she is more intelligent that any bird you will encounter. If you apologize and don’t pull out feathers, I think she will let you pet her.”

“Why should I talk to her.”

“Do it and you might be surprised.

He rolled his eyes and walked over to her.

“I am… _sorry_ …for pulling out a feather.”

Having a bit of pity with the youth she took the olive branch and held her head into his direction. Gian’s eyes sparkled and he started to pet her excessively – without pulling feathers.

~*~

Somehow _Saladino_ – little devil – started to become a name all residents called the whirlwind Gian was. He came to them daily and turned their normal routines upside down. Saladino however was a mouthful of a name and Leo took on to shorten it to Salaì.

~*~

“NO, NO, **NO**! YOU CAN’T GO!”

Salaì refused to give over one of their travel bags and stood defiant in the doorway.

“But we have to go.”

A letter from Florence had arrived: Lorenzo’s health was slowly deteriorating, and he wanted to meet them at least once more before it got too bad.

“ **NO!**...You are the only one to care for me…nobody likes me anyway!”

Oh no, Penelope turned to see Leo’s face, he had that glint in his eyes.

“Then go and ask your father if you can accompany me. I have no assistant in my shop.”

The youth’s eyes grew large as plates.

“YES!”

 

* * *

 

Somehow visiting Lorenzo was better and worse at the same time than expected. There was little left of the presence of the once proud Medici – _the Magnificent_. But it wasn’t as bad as described in the letter. He still could walk around well enough and was only coughing here and there. Leonardo, very much concerned for his friend, tried to mother hen the other as they saw his slightly ashen skin for the first time but there was still some pride left in Lorenzo and he waved any help with a friendly smile away.

What too concerned her was Fernando. After basically raising the white crow until he resettled into the Medici household it was appalling to see him this _old_. Must be roundabout twenty years now. He was barely able to walk, whole patches of feathers were missing and where he had been filled with curiosity and energy he now was weak and frail.

While Leo tended to Lorenzo, she approached the half-cage structure in which Fernando laid. Her adopted little brother slowly shuffled to the side and made space for her. Suppressing any kind of hatred, she bore for cages Penelope came inside and encircled him with her wing – he was still noticeably smaller than her.

“Hello sister dearest…long time no see.”

Even his trill was scratchy with age and that was worryingly. It was truly the first time she did not only see someone grow up; she saw someone grow _old_.

“Don’t look so glum. I had a good life.”

Ice pooled into her belly while he gave her a weak smile.

“You saved me, gave me a good life. And seeing you strong and healthy shows that life treated you well too…say my name please.”

“Fern-.”

“No, my _name_.”

“A- Abraxas.”

He sighed in content and melted into her side.

“One last request?”

Knowing what it meant she nodded her head sadly.

“Sing for me?”

And she did. Penelope sang until he was asleep, and she continued singing for a long while even as his heart long since stopped beating. She sang until she could sing no more.   
Both men in the room obviously noticed what was going on and the sadness reflected in their faces as well. As she finally laid down exhausted Leonardo gently got her out and cradled her to his chest while Lorenzo got Fernando out – he would have to bring his children the news that their white crow had passed onto the next life.

There was nothing more than a nod between the two men as they parted ways in the early night, the moon round and silver.

~*~

Leonardo did not only carry her back to their mostly still dusty workshop, where the entrance was nearly hidden, he carried her up the stairs out onto the roof where he sat down against the chimney. Salaì’s snoring hearable through the open window.

They sat in silence together for a long time watching the stars sparkling on the firmament.

Leonardo drew in a shaky breath and his eyes got wet.

“Will I lose you too in a handful of years or will you live as long as a human? Will you even stay with me until were both old and ready to leave this world?”

How could she answer such a question? Her duration of her stay was determined by how much she got exposed to the Apple not so much by her age. Feeling heavy she pressed herself deeper into Leo’s embrace and he did in turn encircled her even more.


	21. In the Reflection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyho, new chap is up!
> 
> I felt quite down the last few days and my concentration suffered so there is a higher chance for mistakes in this one. It’s quite godsend that tomorrow me and my family go on a two-week holiday trip but that means for you dear readers that I don’t know if I’ll be upload during this time.
> 
> It was a good thing too that I finished not only the main story of AC: Odyssey but the Atlantis missions too (not including DLC ones) before writing this chap otherwise I’d had a huge unwanted canon-hole in this story – but it too gave me a good alternative to write in later chapters.  
> Anyway, happy reading 😊
> 
> PS:Is there a word for the flap-skirt-thingies on the Assassin's uniforms? (edit: question answered)

“I know that you are there little one.”

Still a bit weary of the stranger Khemu straightened up and emerged from the corn field, the whitish-grey cloth, that had been covering him after Dezmund had disappeared without a trace, in his arms. However, the youth’s concerns were unnecessary, the man sitting at the edge of the field was calm and his posture was relaxed. All his earlier haste and anger and hurt was gone, or at least under control. Looking for the first time directly into his face made the boy realize how much his eyes reminded him of his father’s. They were old, steeled but shone warmth and gentleness.

_Jump._

Khemu could hear his father’s word clearly in his mind. In the Duat was no edge he could jump off, but he took courage – that was what his father had wanted to tell him with the high jump into the water – and sat down right beside the man just short of touching.

“I am Khemu. Khemu of Siwa, son of Bayek and Aya.”

“Hello Khemu of Siwa, son of Bayek and Aya. My name is Malik…Al-Sayif.”

At least this stranger had a name he could pronounce unlike the last one. What had happened to him? For once Khemu was without an idea for a conversation and the two sat in silence for a long while. With curiosity the boy noticed that the man started to flex his left arm over and over as if he wanted to ease his muscles after a hard day of work – but only his left. The strange glint in Malik’s eyes told him that his curiosity didn’t go unnoticed, but the man didn’t elaborate why he did it.

After another while Khemu’s buttocks started to go numb and he stood up to ease the feeling.  
Malik stood up alongside him, _finally_ breaking the silence.

“Khemu, do you know where we are?”

“The Duat. Why does nobody know this? It is obvious that the Duat follows after life if one was good.”

With his hands in his hips Khemu gave the other his best stern look, silently demanding for answers. He had seen adults do it and it works every time. Every. Time. At least when they are doing it.  
The other however didn’t pay him any attention and instead looked at his arm again.

“Afterlife?...,” silently Malik added an _Kadar_ into the sentence – whatever that was, “…you spoke of others?”

“Eh, just one other so far. He had a really strange name. And he had _cho-clad_!”

“What was his name?”

“Deh-, Des-, Dezmund – I think. I got this from cloth from him.”

“Desmond?!”

“Yes, that how it’s pronounced! Do you know him? He seemed lonely.”

After Malik had squared his shoulder as Dezmund’s name was mentioned, he deflated once more after that.

“I-…a friend of mine had been searched for him for a long time.”

“Was he a good person?”

“Who?”

“Your friend.”

Why didn’t adults listen? Khemu thought to himself. His parents taught him to always listen so why couldn’t Malik just listen; it wasn’t so hard was it? Just from the past-tense Malik used he deducted that his friend wasn’t inhabiting the living world anymore. See what one could achieve with listening alone!  
He crossed his arms to make him appear more important and listen-worthy.

“My friend…he was the best.”

“Then all is fine,” Khemu threw his hands in the air, “all good people come here. Dezmund is somewhere around here; we just have to find your friend now.”

Seeing an opportunity Khemu continued, silencing Malik before he could answer.

“How about we do it together? I search for my Papo and you for your friend – four eyes see more than two.”

Like he had seen his father do it, Khemu extended his hand to shake on the deal. With the tiniest smile on his lips Malik returned the gesture. It was a win for Khemu.

~*~

After the boy told Malik that he had only briefly met Dezmund in the corn field, leaving out that he was too scared to leave it as he found the edges of it, the two went together into the grey. It was beautiful just as it was frightening.

At first, they were walking though clouds and mist in all shades of grey Khemu could imagine, then he stumbled over something that protruded from the ground half hidden due to the bad sight onto the floor, luckily Malik caught him.  
Whatever it was it looked like shiny-polished armor but instead of seeing himself in the reflection he saw for some unexplainable reason the backside of Malik.

More and more started to emerge each one larger than the last, all showing them in odd angles.  
To his frustration it felt even worse than walking over hot desert sand! Khemu wanted to stay strong and show nothing of his pain, but he couldn’t hide a whimper when a shard managed to poke through his thin sandal.

Malik commented this with a sigh, took the cloth out of Khemu’s arms to cover him with it and grabbed him under his arms. And lifted him onto his shoulders! Khemu was glad to be off his feet. He started to get tired even if he didn’t want to admit it. The soft swaying of Malik’s walk and the soft warmth of the cloth was like a lullaby to him and he tried with all his might to stay awake. And as he was just short of giving up one of the reflections to their right caught his attention. It didn’t show any angle of either him or Malik it was the backside of a man in white robes!

Excited Khemu tugged at a strand of the others hair and pointed into the direction of the strange reflection. Malik followed his finger and froze.

“Altair?!”

 

* * *

 

Desmond groaned loudly to share his boredom with the world.

“Stop it Desmond! First you don’t want to go into the Animus, now that Becc’s has to check it over and you don’t have go into the Animus you’re complaining!”

“I am _bored_.”

Frustrated Shaun put his glasses aside and massaged the bridge of his nose. From the looks of it, Rebecca would need at least two more hours and it was still bright outside so they couldn’t let Desmond out. Desmond had been talking their ears off the last few days to let him explore the rest of the villa to keep himself occupied – he could after all help neither of them.

Before Shaun could share his complains with the world Lucy interfered.

“Then go and look around the villa Desmond, though no looking out of windows or open them or doors that lead outside. No light unless you need it. Leave nothing behind, understood?”

“Aye, aye sir! – madame.”

“Just _go_.”

~*~

Desmond had a theory.

Or at least the beginning of one.

And the theory included feathers. The white feathers of Chiara to be exact. After a rather random thought, _what if the feathers are keys to the Eagle Vision_ , he mulled the thought over and over in his brain refining it and each time it seemed more and more to be a _solid_ theory.

Since his first kill – his first target assassination with Altair – Desmond had tried to find an explanation for the subspace-thingy Altair and Ezio ended up in after assassinating high profile people. He never even got out if it was a fixed construct from the Animus or if it was one of the random and unexplainable things that seemed to happen more and more often? Sometimes he, as Ezio, seemed to… _glitch_ to different locations for fractions of seconds, not long enough to see where exactly but long enough to notice it. Somehow that made him more nervous than the prospect of falling deeper into the memory bleed.

Anyway…the two times he had contact to Chiara’s feathers he ended up somewhere that could maybe, and just maybe, relate to the subspace thing.

To test it he would need another feather. And because he had nothing to fill his little free-time with other than eating or looking after the ghostly figures of times past he wanted to try to find another feather in the villa – hence the constant nagging for a search-allowance.

That he now got.

Feeling giddy he made sure that his hidden blade was where it belonged and put a flashlight into the pocket of his new hoody and walked out of the sanctuary.

The whole villa smelled of old wood and despite having a rather rotten tint to it, it felt _right_. While being in the Animus he never really registered the lack of smells because feelings and impressions had his mind working overdrive but outside of it – he noticed it even stronger. After he had realized this, he used it to assure himself that he was _Desmond_. A man that was neither Altair nor Ezio. Desmond was _alive_.

Rays of light that squeezed themselves through the planks barricading doors and windows illuminated the dust-particles flying around creating a scene in the open entrance area that underlined how sad it was that Leonardo wasn’t around anymore to capture it in one of his masterpieces.

Whereas he had gone upstairs the last time, his gut lead him just to the other side of the hall where Ezio had once stored spare weapons and armor. Now he could only spot the shine of metal here and there and all the displays where thrown over, torn apart and destroyed in many ways.

The ghostly silhouette of Ezio moved to the corner of the room where bits and pieces of the ceiling had come down and pointed into the pile of rubble before dissolving into nothing again.

Desmond shrugged with his shoulders for no one in particular and started to get stone and wood out of the way. He had given up ignoring Altair and Ezio when they were _this_ specific – Altair had shown him where Shaun’s last chocolate-bar had been just yesterday.

With a grunt he heaved the last stone-plate away and a quite well-preserved chest came to light. It wasn’t an overly pretty one nor was it just plain wood; it was ordinary, easy to be dismissed. But it was golden color-coded and with that an object of interest for him.

Many years of pressure created an airtight lid he couldn’t just open even if the rusty lock was a child’s play. Carefully Desmond tried to pry his hidden blade between box and lid and get it all around what he managed to do after a few failed attempts. Let’s just say smacking old and heavy wooden boxes did not improve the health of one’s hand and wrist.

He knew that his blade wasn’t meant to withhold large amounts of pressure so he couldn’t use it as a lever, instead an old blade – quite an ugly thing buried under wood – had to do it. Desmond started to sweat, but if he _did_ want something for once, he did it.

He used his full bodyweight to push the wedged sword down to get the lid up. The sword broke. But with the gap he created he could use a still sturdy piece of wood and use it as a lever instead.

In the end it basically exploded open, making his butt meet the ground painfully but it was open and that’s what counted. The insides were filled with hooded robes in all shades between white and black, some very flashy other plain as if they were remains of the Levantine.

Desmond actually got out of his hoodie, wincing as the flashlight in the pocket clattered on the ground, and pulled on one of the plain white clothes. It felt right, from the coat-tail wings to the tip of the hood.

He felt something behind him!

Desmond turned on instinct into a defensive stance with his blade ready to strike – it were only Altair and Ezio checking in on him. He couldn’t see their eyes due to the shadows of their hoods, but both had gentle smiles on their lips – even if the beard was a new one for Ezio.

Warmth spread through his chest.

But he was here for another reason, a feather. Wrapped up in dark grey robes with white trimming was a golden coded feather.  
For a moment he thought he forgot to switch off the Eagle Vision, but the feather was still golden while using plain old human eyes, if a tad bit shorter than the other one he had found before.

With a ponding heart Desmond reached for the feather; on one hand hoping to get answers on the other praying that nothing was going to happen to him, knowing deep down it was a stupid thing to do without informing somebody else.

Bright white light took over his vision and he found himself in a grey area. Just like the one he had seen through Ezio’s eyes just more vicious with all the mirror shards around.

It worked and Desmond wasn’t sure what to feel. His Assassin ancestors in the back of his mind were once more absent so he couldn’t wait for them to show him some advice and _this_ had been his plan; seeing if his theory was right.

He took a deep breath and started walking, very glad for the good shoes he wore because despite the thick sole he felt the shards below his feet, barefoot would probably be hell.

A particularly large mirror shard showed his complete backside. With a silly grin on his lips he pulled his hood up and felt awesome. His shoes clashed a bit with the outfit, but these were dismissible details. Desmond knew he would never archive the dangerous swagger of his ancestors, but the right clothes did give him a bit more edge.

Something blue in a small mirror in the corner of his vision took his attention. For a moment he thought it was Malik but the person he saw from the back had a child on his shoulders – why should Malik carry a child. But there was something thrown over the child’s shoulders.

His lost thought hoodie.

“Altair?!”

Man, was he relieved that the Altair-mind part was absent because after the blue robes he would’ve definitely taken over at the sound of the voice alike of his best friend. Desmond looked around to find out where the man actually was and when he did, he was rooted to his spot.

No second arm could deny the fact that Desmond came face-to-face with Malik Al-Sayif who, for some unexplainable reason carried Kche-Crem-… Khemu on his shoulders.

Malik looked…good. Strong and healthy without bags under his eyes – two arms obviously – and he was smaller than he imagined. It wasn’t much difference, but he was a tad bit smaller than Desmond himself.

“Dezmund!”

Khemu recognized him despite his clothes and basically jumped off Malik’s shoulders into his arms; he barely managed to catch the whirlwind.

“Where were you? You were gone so fast.”

“Eh…gone back where I came from?”

“You came back to life?!”

“NO…no. I was never dead to begin with.”

That confused the young Egyptian and gave them all something to think over. During his small exchange with the youth, Malik had squared his shoulders and put on his professional Assassin aura. This shift in the air didn’t go unnoticed and Desmond switched his attention to the Assassin.

Now that Malik was truly presenting himself his little height advantage was null and void. In this Dai’s presence Desmond felt insignificant and green behind the ears. In comparison he probably was, Desmond didn’t know when (or if) Malik had died but going by the fact that he was an adult and _whole_ and was raised from very small on for the Assassin’s cause and unlike him he had lived it with all his being, Malik was definitely the better Assassin of them two.

“You’re Desmond?”

“…Yes…hello Malik.”

Outwards nothing in the Dai’s posture changed but his eyes just got darker. It took Desmond a few seconds to catch up with what he had done – he just called Malik by his name even if he should not know it – but as soon as he did, he shifted his hold on Khemu to hold his left arm up. The unsecured sleeve slipped down, revealing his Hidden Blade. Very different from what Malik should know but the telltale blade was a clear sign.

“Safety and peace Malik.”

“…Safety and peace… Desmond.”

Khemu’ eyes darted confused between them two and pulled the hoodie around his shoulders closer to his body.

“Altair had been searching half of his life for you and now I am the one to meet you. Or did you find Altair?”

“ _Find_ on quite a loose term. I saw his life just before the fall of Al-Mualim; the hunt of the nine?”

“That’s how you know me.”

Desmond nodded.

“Let’s continue walking until we have a spot to sit down while answering questions?”

~*~

They only walked as far as they had to, to have a flat floor with no shards. Khemu finally fell asleep and was now dosing with his head on Desmond’s tight while modern man was deep in discussion with Malik.

Things they found out where for example that Malik had died, or rather had been killed at the age of 63 and in turn Desmond told him the short version of how he ran away and unlike the anger towards him he thought he would get for leaving the Brotherhood behind Malik was angry at those who tried to force him to stay.

“It is true that we were raised from young to most likely become an Assassin but if it shouldn’t work out another _fitting_ job for the person was found within the community.”

It took a stone off Desmond’s chest; it wasn’t since always that one had trouble to refuse to become an Assassin.

It was so easy to talk to the other man – a wise grandpa in mind even if his body was one of a person of maybe 25 years – and leave his usual defensive walls down. Desmond understood now better than ever why Altair liked his Dai this much.  He listened and asked either a question or gave advise in the best moments. After another set of rather mundane question the truly big one from Malik’s point of view fell:

“How are you related to Altair and why should an Apple reveal your name to him?”

“I am his descendant by many generations, one who is in theory able to control artifacts such as the Apple. And somewhere in between I should save the world from impending doom and I don’t KNOW **HOW** **!** ”

Desmond lost himself somewhere in the confession-like answer and raised his voice after years of keeping rather quiet. This startled Khemu but luckily the boy was asleep again after a few assuring brushes through his hair. Malik’s eyes turned sad and he shuffled closer to guide Desmond’s head against his shoulder.

Desmond, unlike with his first meeting with Khemu, couldn’t keep it together now. Even if it was based on Altair’s experiences, Malik was _familiar_ and seemed to genuine care for him.

He started weeping, tears streaming unrestrained for the first time in the company of another.

It felt _great_. Just letting  go of everything he had bottled up. Malik, seeing that Desmond wasn’t averse to his touch turned him a bit, so he was leaning against his chest, able to hear his heartbeat.

Desmond didn’t care how long it took him to calm down, he felt truly protected for the first time in his life.

Sadly, nothing was meant to last eternity, but a tugging in his mind alerted Desmond this time of his impending departure of this realm.

“Thank you Malik, thank you. Have an eye on Khemu for me while I try to figure out what this here is?”

The Dai nodded with a slim smile.

And then Desmond started to disappear as if he just dissolved into a swarm of fireflies. In the last second Desmond remembered something crucial and hoped Malik had heard it:

“Kadar is here. Somewhere in here searching for you.”

 

* * *

 

Desmond awoke in the spot where he touched the feather. He was rolled up on the ground with his hoodie under his head, too cleanly rolled up to be moved there by himself and there was a dim light at his side too.

Shaun came through the doorway and greeted him in his usual gruff and told him to report to Becc’s.

A look on his phone told him that he had been asleep more than seven hours. When he stated that fact came from Shaun only a:

“You looked like you needed it. And switch clothes or wash them at least. You stink.”


	22. Do you like Chiara? (10/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyho everyone,  
> I am finally home after a tiring car-drive and I had found the time during my trip to write some more. It turned into quite a big chapter, but I found no point where I felt it to be ok to split it so…large chapter ahead, if not he longest so far. (not sure ‘bout that, too lazy to check)  
> And I think its good to underline the tag **canon-typical violence** for this one.  
> (self-beta’d)

It felt like ice-cold water ran down his back as the heavy stone in front of Rodrigo’s secret passage finally gave way, all the people who claimed to work in God’s will forgotten on the floor behind him.

Ezio had his eyes set forward. It was high time to face the end.

To face Rodrigo Borgia.

The passageway was narrow, grey and cold – so much unlike the rest of the Chapel; the rest of the whole Vatican really. It created an ache on the upper part of his stomach were Rodrigo seemed to have stabbed him beforehand. There was neither wound nor damage to his clothes.

The only thing that guided his way were the thin lines of light where floor and wall met so unlike anything, he ever encountered safe for the lines on the Apple when they glowed.

Ezio could’ve sworn he saw his own breath as he stopped in his path to weight whether he should take the path to the left or the right. He took the left. But it didn’t matter, both would’ve ended where he wanted them to. A wide and open circular room the floor sunken down, with an eerie silence that was only interrupted by the Borgia’s insane ranting.

Beating his hands against the wall Rodrigo reminded Ezio of a fly flying repeatedly against a window. Small, insignificant and dumb – just annoying and not dangerous at all. With all the weapons on him Ezio felt overpowered compared to the frantic man in front of him.

With all his weapons laid aside, Rodrigo still wasn’t a challenge. And just like when one had a bit of mercy with a fly to open the window instead of just crushing it Ezio let Rodrigo go.

It was quite a metaphorical letting go of hatred. That man had done so much damage. Damage that could never ever be fixed. But fighting a raging fire with fire did not bring anything else than more suffering. On his journeys the last few years he had met a few people that were driven purely on revenge – and they had been eye openers for him.

Ezio did want to have a life.

Ezio wanted to live long with many stories to tell when it was his time to give death his hand and reunite with the missing parts of his family.

So, he let go.

Watching and feeling his hatred, his _rage,_ disappear.

And what was left behind was a silent circular room and a little spark of curiosity.

The staff felt that spark and did it’s best to nurture it until Ezio relented to it and turned around to face the artifact. It send light far and wide as if it was a peacock showing off his feathers.

Mesmerized Ezio came forward and touched it – activating the ancient mechanism. The walls lit up and a passage appeared.

He was like in trance, his eyes unsure where to look first. The passage was darker and lighter at the same time. The walls a deep black with pulsing silver-golden light lines over it that, despite their intensity, didn’t manage to illuminate that black.

The lines made up pictures, sigils and writing that looked worse than Leonardo’s when he was under time-pressure – he was unable to read it. It all lead up to a room with pillars and a shiny polished floor.

**“Greetings Prophet. It is good that you have come. Let us see it to give thanks.”**

In front of Ezio appeared a woman oddly clothed but that was neglectable. Neither were her feet touching the ground nor did her robes billowed in the way they should without wind.

And she shone in the same light as the lines and strangely seemed to be transparent.

Pure awe caught in his chest and it took him seconds to register, process and execute the request the woman asked of him. He didn’t even question why she wanted to see the Apple – he simply showed it to her.

What followed got etched into his mind despite understanding as good as nothing.

When stars and planets started to fill the room, he began to understand what Leonardo had tried to explain him at their last meeting. The Earth was round, and not everything rotated around it. Earth rotated around the sun like other planets did.

Was this _overwhelmnent_ what his friend felt on a daily basis; knowledge aplenty right at his feet but only so little understandable?

 _Minerva_ and her kind – _those that came before_ – created mankind but weren’t gods. There was talk about something that had changed in their grand plan, Penelope, slaves, rebellion, uprising of humans, upcoming doom and temples.

And all of her words weren’t meant for him. She spoke with someone that seemed to be right behind him and she scolded Ezio whenever he asked for explanations.

 _Desmond_.

All was meant for Desmond and the message somehow went through Ezio.

How? – He did not know. He did not understand.

Desmond. Desmond. Desmond.

The name echoed in his mind; who was the person not-gods spoke to?

Seeing Mario’s familiar face as he left the Vault was a much-needed breather. The clicking and grumbling of the closing passage and disappearing Staff had something final.

But a weight was off his chest. Whatever he had to do as the _mighty_ Prophet – it was done.

 

* * *

 

_“Chiara…_ **shit** _…now I would need your sight!”_

Penelope’s head shot up as she thought to hear someone calling out to her. A look out of her nest showed that no-one had asked for her aid.  Only the first morning light came through the windows and Leonardo and Salaì were cuddled together on the couch sleeping peacefully.

It was a bubble of a happy illusion she did not want to burst. But it did with the guard sticking his ugly head inside the makeshift workshop waking Leonardo and in extension Salaì very rudely.

She had thought over and over how they ended up in this situation, but she did not know how it could’ve been averted. Her “nest” was one of Leonardo’s spare-capes rolled up in a bird cage she could barely stand in.

The root: Cesare Borgia.

In the beginning she didn’t want to put his father’s sins on his shoulders – nobody should suffer for something one didn’t commit – and Cesare seemed to be genuine interested in Leonardo’s work but that all made a 180 really quick.

Leonardo had been in desperate need of money; all his private research (that would become important pillars in the future) didn’t produce income and he had trouble finishing commissions with his thoughts playing rugby in his mind over which one was the most important.

Then Cesare came.

Knocking politely, he only came inside when Leonardo invited him in, ignored Salaì’s rather rude antics and asked honest questions about Leo’s work. At the time he had been neutral grey, so she didn’t think to dig deeper when she heard his family name.

Then she got a letter, from Leo and Salaì combined, to the boy’s parents as an update on him because Leo had insisted that Salaì’s family relationship wouldn’t break as his own did. As amicable the first meeting she witnessed between Leo and his father was, each new one got worse.

_“My son you need to earn more money. Art can’t sustain you.”_

Anyway, she flew with the letter on her back to the vineyard in Milan, made a break overnight at the fireside with the remains of the parents’ dinner and flew out again with the first morning light.

It was too late; Leonardo was in the claws of Cesare and Cesare was not dumb.

Not expecting danger from her own home, she had flown through the open window besides the entrance door and was about to chirp her _“I am home”_ greeting when four highly armored soldiers waited for her. She had only managed and outraged cry until a heavy blanket was thrown over her and pinned to the floor.

Penelope trashed as much as she could taking satisfaction in the rather frightened reaction of the men regarding her strength but nothing alive could work without breathable air. In the end she lost her fight to unconsciousness and awoke in a small cage with thick bars, Leo’s hand brushing desperately through her feathers with red and puffy eyes in a carriage to Rome.

And that was how they ended up in the situation they were now.

She got regularly fed and watered but was only allowed to stretch her wings when she let one of Cesare’s henchmen put a heavy shackle around her talon, effectively keeping her from flying away.

And she had tried. Oh, how she had _tried_.

Penelope was missing a handful of her beautiful and large primary feathers as a result.

She did not know what to do anymore.

Leonardo couldn’t get out to get help or simply stop because either her or Salaì would suffer for it. Salaì was, after an attempt to sneak out, under heavy watch by many eyes and Cesare took sick delight in her suffering.

But it was Leonardo who was truly suffering.

Penelope could barely feel its presence, and wouldn’t her tummy grow goldener each week, she probably wouldn’t have thought about it, but an Apple was near. Cesare had put Leonardo in front of it for hours driving his brain to the very edge of its capacity.

It took a huge toll on her artist and he seemed to have aged 10 years in the last month.

Today Leonardo had another private meeting with Cesare and was escorted outside while Salaì had to remain. Even if they hadn’t gotten along in the beginning, they both knew that Leonardo was just short of breaking apart and he desperately needed their help.

Sadly, songs and cuddles could only do so much.

 

* * *

 

Something in his eyes was different as Leonardo came back from getting some new tools and it sparked the same emotion in her.

Hope.

And when the night came and Leonardo said his normal _goodnight_ to her, he leaned in to her as close as he could and she laid her beak, the only thing that fit through her newest cage model, against his cheek. It were three words. Three simple things that ignited a spark into an inferno.

“Ezio is here.”

 

* * *

 

Wherever Ezio went death and destruction followed and now it was definitely in their benefit. He did not outright “free” them but with the constant destruction of everything Leonardo designed they were useless to Cesare. The man had doubled and tripled the guards on them but they never found any evidence than Leo knew of his invention’s demise, her little genius even managed to make some gadgets for the Assassin right under their noses because they never understood what he was doing.

The Borgia lost interest in them and after maybe another about two weeks they were thrown out onto the streets, Cesare unwilling to pay anymore for their housing or food or their surveillance in general.

The three of them sat on the street with just one meagre filled bag per person but they were happier than ever despite being again or still – depending on how one interpreted Cesare’s funding – without money.

Because Penelope was unable to fly with that many missing feathers, they had no chance of tracking Ezio and decided to make their way home alone. The coming weeks were…dirty. At least for her companions.

They had no money and very little to trade, they mostly depended on the goodwill of some local farmers who sometimes allowed them to come along in their hay carts and some very generous ones who offered a roof over their heads for a night and some leftovers. Without a daily scrub-down the artist and his boy became very quickly very muddy in the wild but Penelope could only feel happiness and relieve as she saw Leonardo standing in the rain with his arms skyward and a grin on his face.

The relative quietness gave Leonardo the much needed time to process some of the things he learned and slowly but surely the shadows below his eyes to disappear. He had changed in the clutches of Cesare but his inner curious child wasn’t gone just yet.

~*~

Weren’t it for Volpe’s little group of thieves the trio wouldn’t have been able to enter Florence. Dirty and run-down like beggars they arrived at the gates and the guards had refused their entry, but the small troupe baited the guards and created a diversion to let them slip through. And just like ever when Volpe’s henchmen were on the move he was never far away.

La Volpe intercepted them in front of their home. He made sure that they were alright and had enough to find foot again on their own. And they could.

After cleaning up and sleeping for a felt week Leonardo reported back the Guild of St. Luke that he was back in business, new commissions came in and life was back in his usual course if one ignored Leonardo’s nightmares if he fell asleep when he wasn’t deadbeat-tired.

 

* * *

 

Today was a slow day so Leonardo decided to stretch his fingers with some good old sketches; Salaì was too tired to do much anyway. He directed his student to make himself comfortable – the boy took a cushion off the couch and sat down at his desk and placed his head on it with the clear intend to sleep. It was in Leonardo’s favor because Salaì still could sit longer than ten minutes unless he had something to do.

The artist placed his stool some space away and started sketching. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Chiara’s nest where she was preening her feathers. When he thought about it, she should be finished with her molding by now. Maybe they could stretch their legs – or wings respectively – later together. Anyway, he focused back into his work.

With each stroke his mind quieted down further until it was just an ignorable buzz in his head. First came ruff and lightly made outlines, then he worked on the details starting with his assistant’s face. Maybe he should officially declare him his student, he worked hard enough for that. Leonardo tried to capture the _serenity_ of the scene, how the cushion squished the face or the unruly lock of hair that fell over his eyes.

He was captured for maybe an hour in his work when a tentative knock sounded at the door. Before he could even stand up to look who was at the door two curious brown eyes looked through the window followed by a giggle. With a gentle smile on his lips Leonardo stood up and let the young woman inside. Her hair was well-groomed and her clothes spoke of a rather wealthy upbringing despite being without overly much décor. She was a natural beauty and it filled him with pride as she looked around, seeing his work, and was pleased by it.

“I am sorry to bother you Mr. da Vinci. My friends talked much about your work and I just had to see it for myself.”

“It’s no problem, really and please, just call me Leonardo.”

 She darted around a bit more, on toe-tips as she saw Salaì sleeping and never did she touch something. A plus in his book. Then her eyes fell on Chiara; his bird was laying curled together on a dresser, lazily tracking the woman’s movement with only her eyes.

“What an exquisite puppet- wait. It blinked!”

Being discovered Chiara stood up and stretched her wings.

“Oh my, what a beautiful creature! How can such a golden color be possible?  You didn’t paint on her, did you?”

“No, those are Chiara’s natural colors.”

“And she has such a beautiful name too! Who’s a good bird? You are!”

Leonardo couldn’t contain a chuckle as Chiara sheepishly rearranged her feathers and nearly hid below her wings at the compliment. But he still did not know the woman’s name.

“And what is your name.”

She jerked her hand back that had been slowly wandering in the direction of his friend.

“Oh, how rude of me, I am Lisa del Giocondo.”

“Nice to meet you Lisa.”

A bell in the distance marked another hour passed and Lisa looked to the door.

“It was nice to meet you too, but this is my cue to leave, have to pick up the little ones. Have a good day.”

“Good day.”

And with that the woman was gone as quick as he came. From behind him Salaì started talking, eyes both clearly open and filled with mischief.

“Have you seen her backside and hair? She’s eye candy.”

Leonardo groaned.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t the last they had seen of Lisa. Two days later she was back, hanging onto the arm of a clearly older man she introduced as her husband. Unlike many other pairs with such an age-gap the two seemed to be genuine happy with each other so Leonardo refrained from any commentary.

In his opinion marriage should be done out of love and not out because it was convenient in some way – sadly only convenient for the males in the arrangement; husbands, fathers. He had given up finding someone for himself; Salaì and maybe any future apprentice will be the only thing he’ll have as family, as sons.  
But as stated before the two in front of him seemed happy and happy people gave him faith to continue, continue researching so humanity may be better off in the future.

Much to his surprise, when the man saw his bird he froze and pointed towards her.

“You!”

It took a while to get the full story. The man, Francesco, was a cloth and silk merchant by trade and his strangest thing ever happening was a white eagle snatching one of his berets he sold at the time and leaving behind a satchel filled with florins – way too much for just the beret – but the money had helped him out of dept at the time. And Chiara reminded him of this mysterious eagle.

In the end Francesco commissioned Leonardo to make a portrait of his wife which he agreed to make. Lisa would come by next week when the children were taken care of.

What a day.

 

* * *

 

“Chiara, Salaì pack your things together were going to Rome!”

With a bounce in his step and one already packed bag over his shoulder Leonardo came down the stairs only to find his bird present; Salaì was out once again. Chiara gave a questioning trill, so he started explaining for her.

“You remember Pythagoras? There is something in Rome and I intent to discover what it is. Maybe we can even say hi to Ezio if he is still there. Could you find Salaì for me?”

She nodded and his loyal friend was out of the window after the wayward boy while he packed some of his works together and brought everything out to the carriage he ordered.

 

* * *

 

Whereas he hadn’t found any trace of the Assassin when he left Rome the last time, he now had a welcoming committee within minutes of arriving. Hooded people in grey and white appeared on the rooftops and after an ok-nod from Chiara he followed their shadows through the city.

They were instructed to park the carriage in a side alley and Salaì was not allowed to follow. The boy went on a stroll through the city with a peeved look at the hoods; neither of them reacted.

Two hoods stayed with the carriage for the time being and the rest led him to an inconspicuous door where they went inside. After the narrow entrance it opened up with high ceilings and a homely feeling. Hoods were taken down and his escort mingled with the other present in the rooms.

“Ah, Leonardo. You just missed the Mentor.”

“Niccolò, nice to see you again.”

The two exchanged a friendly handshake.

“Who do you mean by Mentor?”

“Ezio has been promoted.”

Leonardo knew how much effort Ezio had put into the Brotherhood, he always liked to talk about how his newest recruits and students did, when they met and had a bit of spare time left. Mentor was truly fitting for him, Ezio was a motherduck with all his heart and his heart was large and could take in many that were in need of a home.

“Congratulations are in order then.”

“I’ll tell him that if he does not visit you personally in a few days. We have an empty warehouse some streets down you can use as a workshop or do you already have a place?”

Oh…he had forgotten to look for a place…he surely wouldn’t use the one they had gotten provided by Cesare. Sheepishly Leonardo accepted the offer. A look to his feathery friend showed him how interested she looked around. He brushed gently over her tummy to get her to listen.

“Do you want to look around? I can set the shop up without you.”

She nodded enthusiastically with bright eyes.

 

* * *

 

Penelope was mesmerized. The halls as well as their decorations were… _warmer_ …than those of Masayaf but this right here, this was a home, this was a _Brotherhood_. People of all ranks mingling around, laughing together, training together, living together.

And the variations that were made from the Levantine group were all things she could support; the biggest difference being that there weren’t only Brothers, there were fully trained Sisters as well. More lived outside the walls as too, some still performing their trades from before their initiation, and those who needed a housing got a small room in the upper parts of the complex. Her personal favorite was the big sleeping hall. Just one big ass room filled with cushions and blankets in all colors of the rainbow. She had seen with Altair and Malik how much less horrifying nightmares were when there was someone else to help you through the dark.

She felt at peace.

A man called Marcello was the first one to carry her around, Antonia took over. Then she sat on the shoulders of Giulia and got picked up by Eduardo. There were just so many friendly people, so much life.

She had missed so much of this development.

It felt like yesterday that the Italian Brotherhood was a group of thrown together individuals with Ezio unknowingly at their middle. He had done so much with so little at his disposal.

But then she saw the art collection and remembered why she hadn’t been at Ezio’s side all the time as she had been with Altair.

Leonardo.

With him she had learned so much and her biggest lesson so far: understanding, empathy.

To truly master things one had to see every perspective on something. Under him she truly began to question the ways of the Creed, asses them, see the possible dangers and drawbacks, the true beauty of a Brotherhood.

And now, if one would ask it of her, Penelope would be able to present herself proudly and claim herself to be a member of the Assassin’s Brotherhood and mean it with all her heart.

She sighed in content, drawing in the faces of those around her. Penelope smiled the best she could.

The tour was nearly at its end when they walked past a painting. Somehow it caught her attention. Only at closer inspection she knew why, and she would’ve cried tears of pain and happiness if she could.

It was a painting of the Auditore Family. The whole family. Giovanni, Maria, Mario, Federico, Claudia, Ezio and Petruccio – with a younger her in his arms.

~*~

Penelope was high on good feelings and fell asleep on Leonardo’s lap content with her life.

 

* * *

 

Salaì was already asleep and Leonardo just packing his things to the side for the night when someone knocked in a familiar pattern against the front door.

As soon as her Artist opened the door and saw their favorite Assassin unharmed all tension fell of his shoulders and she flew over onto his shoulders to be able to also affectionate bump her head against Ezio’s.

“Welcome oh mighty Mentor.”

Ezio chuckled.

“Oh, please don’t.”

“As long as you don’t sell yourself short.”

“Okay, okay, and hello to you too Chiara.”

Leonardo pulled his friend inside and made one of the table complete empty and offered the other a seat.

“Tell me, how do you fare.”

“I am well Leonardo and Cesare is caught but something troubles me.”

The Assassin gabbed into one of his many bags and satchels on his belt and pulled forth an Apple of Eden. With a heavy _clank_ he put it onto the wood in front of him.

Penelope had just sat down on the table as he placed it down only an armlength away from her. She shuddered. Even dormant as it was, she was dosed in its power – she basically felt her feathers turning more golden by the second. It distracter her so much that she missed large chunks of her friends’ conversation, the only thing truly sticking being the fact that the Apple needed to be locked away.

And then Ezio activated the Apple!

So up close it felt like being thrown into hot water that was just short of inflicting damage with its temperature. The daze abated only a bit at a time even as Ezio put the artifact away.

_“I build this Brotherhood to last – with or without me.”_

What?

_“If this is goodbye, then keep your money.”_

What was so final now? She trilled for answers. Penelope didn’t want something, a friendship to end without seeing each other ever again. Not now when life was as good as life could ever be.  
Finally, the two noticed her state.

“Chiara?!”

Going by the golden/red smudge that picked her up it was Leonardo.

“Come on my friend, talk to me!”

She only managed another weak trill. A larger and rougher hand searched for a pulse on her and then carefully extended one of her wings. Both men gasped, her lowest row of feathers was now golden.

“Chiara is reacting to the Apple!”

“Do you think this is hurting her?”

“She does not seem to be in pain. You said you had to do something, do it and I care for her.”

“I come back as soon as I can.”

~*~

Penelope was fine after a full night of sleep.

 

* * *

 

It took Ezio some days so come back and relieve was evident on his face when he saw Penelope moving around as usual.

During his days of absence, Leo correctly concluded that the Apple and its vicinity to her corresponded to her turning gold – a revelation he shared with Ezio.

The Assassin picked her up to look her into the eye with a stern look.

“Does the Apple hurt you and should we keep it away from you?”

She rolled her eyes – she couldn’t answer two questions in one answer. Ezio caught on to the problem after a few seconds of thought and asked his questions separately.

It did not hurt her, she got only dizzy and tired.

But keeping it away from her? She did not know. Using the Apple as an energy source was her purpose but she too did not want to be gone too soon. Penelope only gave him an unsure wiggle.

Having this out of the room for the time being Ezio, still having her on one arm, petting her absentmindedly with his other, turned his attention back to his other friend.

“It good to see you both up and running, unfortunately I cannot stay. I am here to charter a ship.”

“Let me assist you, I know a Captain, very discreet. Hang on…”

Leonardo started to shuffle through the papers around him on the search for his notes. He started to forget where he placed things if they were only of small importance. While he was searching around Ezio’s eyes fell onto his latest work – his notes on Pythagoras and his secrets.

“A hobby of mine.”

“Remind me who Pythagoras was?”

“He was a brilliant Scholar from Greece who discovered many secrets about the heavenly spheres and our cosmos.”

“The symbols come from him?”

They came from the Apple, Leonardo had thought out loud those facts for her to follow whenever he worked on them and he was astonished to find them in Pythagoras notes too. Ezio seemed to know them and told them such.

Also observing Leonardo’s rather scattered state of mind advised him to rather continue with painting instead of whatever the Apple told him. It was rather ironic that the portrait of Lisa, Ezio pointed out as possible project to continue, was seen in such a bad light in her makers opinion but would become one of the works he was most famous for.

Leonardo clearly wanted to continue talking with Ezio but with possible new tools to arrive he couldn’t leave the shop unattended without a human. Salaì. The little devil was out again and needed to be found.

“Ok, an easy task.”

“I am afraid you underestimate Salaì.”

“Wait and see.”

“Suit yourself. You could take Chiara with you. She could use a stretch of wings and has become rather adept at finding my assistant.”

“When she wants to.”

Penelope led out a happy trill and made sure that her wing flapping hit Ezio’s face – the only thing without armor. Wait where was her own? Knowing Ezio they were bound to get in trouble.

She sailed over to the desk and pointed with her talon against her beak.

“Oh, OH. Yes. Give me a moment I know where I put that.”

Leonardo ran into the back of the shop and came back with a roughly fist-sized box. The box contained her beak reinforcement which was put on with practiced ease. To show her readiness she sat down on Ezio’s shoulder.

“Then let’s go.”

“Don’t get into trouble.”

Leonardo gave them a wink.

“You know me.”

“That’s why I said it.”

 

* * *

 

Ezio was concerned for Leonardo because deep down he knew, would the artist have a lesser mind he would already be insane, begging for an end. But currently there was nothing he could do other than keeping any artifacts away from him and check in ever once in a while to make sure that he was still ok.

Chiara must’ve noticed his mood because she tugged at his hood. He thanked her with some gentle scratches in return.

“Then let us begin. Notify me if you see any trace of Salaì.”

Ezio gave her a small boost and looked after her flying silhouette against the sun with a gentle smile.  
Not to be outdone by a bird, he climbed the next building onto the rooftops and activated his Eagle Vision.

Pain.

Loudly groaning he clutched his head and sunk to his knees. It felt as if his head split open.

Wrenching his eyes open he saw his knees on the dirty-red tiles disappearing and being replaced by…a view from above?! He had no control over it, but he saw like a whole district of Rome in full detail. There was a distant sound of wings flapping and the view shook frantically…kicking him out? He saw the bottom below him again but not before he saw a golden colored person in a tavern.

By now he was laying sideways on the roof heaving dryly and it took him some good ten minutes to get himself somewhat back together. There was a dull throb behind his temples and his eyes felt dry.

But he knew where Salaì was.

He had felt worse; this was only an itch.

Ezio got his feet back under him and made his way, as fast as his headache let him, to the tavern. Above its entrance was Chiara already waiting for him with a smug expression which faltered a bit as she saw the state he was in.  
Telling her to stay put, he found the little devil gambling with loaded dices. He managed to get him out after a bit of whining on Salaì’s side as the Ezio Karma stroke.

The Assassin was relieved when the boy showed to be adept in the climbing of roofs so he only had to take out the first pursuers with the assistance of Chiara and could jump over the heads of the rest.

He was less relieved when talking to the boy in detail that he knew everything. _Everything_. What bothered him currently the most was, that he knew of Leonardo’s research about the Pythagoras’ Temple. It could still contain a Piece of Eden that had to be hid from Templar hands.

And with his white robes, hood and a bit of information it was easy to piece together that he was _Ezio Auditore da Firenze_ the Master Assassin and Mentor of the Italian Brotherhood.

Shortly before arriving back at the workshop Chiara cried out, accelerating drastically.

Both male unsettled, picked up their pace and came across a forced-open door. Ezio’s heart was pumping loudly in his chest while desperate cries came from the inside.

Leonardo was gone.  
They must’ve wanted him for his information about the Temple.

He picked up the eagle to keep her from trashing around and have something to hold on. Salaì sat down defeated.  
And he found something etched into the floor.

 ** _Painting. Villa_**.

Salaì put together that Leonardo had hid some clues in his painting, the ones he had hung up in Monteriggioni. He would’ve been happy that most of them did not go up in flames during the siege and could be retrieved from Borgia hand if his oldest friend would not been missing.

“We have no time to search paintings. Leonardo has to be found now!”

“Unless you miraculously see the path he was taken-“

Chiara started to trash around in his arms and jumped around in the doorway. Ezio did not want to hope but:

“Chiara can you find the way?”

She nodded and his hope soared.

 

* * *

 

_I can do that, I can do that!_

Penelope was able to find pathways. With the Assassin at her side she got onto the roof to identify the way she needed to take. It was faint but there: a thin golden line across the city.

She had to slow down considerably so Ezio wouldn’t loose track of her while following her and it made her antsy. Her chest felt constricted, she never again wanted to see Leonardo in captivity; wanted to protect him from whomever might wanted him captured but she had failed again.

And then seeing the catacomb entrance were the line went inside made her chest nearly burst. It reminded her too much of the Solomon Temple.

_Malik._

**_Kadar._ **

Sometimes their cries still haunted her in her sleep. The blood, the dull eyes. Malik destroyed on the floor to never be the same again.

“ _Shhh_ …”

Penelope wasn’t even aware that she had landed but as soon as Ezio saw her in distress he picked her up and tried to soothe her. She took a breather against his chest and let herself be carried inside.

She couldn’t freak out about something that had already happen.

She just couldn’t, if she still had the chance to make things right.

A few hundred meters in or so came a deep drop into water and a telltale rope was fixed against the wall. Ezio asked her if he should do the jump with her but she still had enough collected together to make the bit downwards on her own.

The Assassin wasn’t even fully out of water when she heard a stranger demanding for information and the familiar voice of Leo refusing to give it away.

Then came a slap.

Penelope saw red.

Not hold back by the obstacles on the ground she was within view in just a few seconds and just a handful more were required to reach them.

A war cry promising pain was the only warning the two pushing her Artist around got. They had their swords but no metal armor.

Perfect targets especially with a reinforced beak.

She had the first one, the closest to Leonardo, down with very little trouble thanks to the moment of surprise on her side. Her talons drilled into his chest and the throat was cut when she pulled her metal edge through the soft flesh, his panicked cry done as soon as his body hit the floor.

The other had pulled his sword but was shaking far too much to pose a real threat. With another cry she turned around and opened her blood sprinkled wings.

With each passing moment the panic and fear increased in the eyes of the man.

But she was so _angry_.

Each step she took created a clicking on the stone floor echoing eerily in the hall and with every step she took forward the man took a step backwards.

The collected power in the air was released in a flash when she leaped forward. With a frightened cry resembling a woman’s the man dropped his sword and turned tail only to be met with Ezio’s blade.

Seeing that her target was taken care of Penelope landed and folded her wings back. However, she couldn’t read the face Ezio made at her; his eyes were hidden in the shadows of his hood and his lips a thin line.

Then she realized _what_ she had done.

The man behind her, blood still slowly oozing out of his wound at his throat, was dead. Killed.

Dead because of her.

And she didn’t feel even the smallest drop of remorse. He had threatened and hurt a friend of hers.

Penelope had dismissed it rather quickly after she had attacked Abbas but now it had made its ugly return. She was ready to kill, to take a life with intent, to…to…to inflict death!

Suddenly she had trouble breathing and looked at the red on her white feathers.

“Chiara!”

Leonardo.

Uncaring about her dirtied state he quickly robbed over, took her into his arms as soon as she had snapped through his bindings.

“Thank you my brave, brave friend.”

With his head buried into her side she could feel his shuddering breath and returned the gesture gladly, happy to not think about the dead man at the side. Ezio finally came closer and casted a gentle shadow over them.

“We should go home, leave this place to be forgotten forever.”

Leo’s head should up.

“We cannot stop now. Not when we got this far.”

“But you’re injured.”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed with a good night’s sleep. You two stopped them before they could’ve done something drastic.”

Seeing that every negotiation with Leonardo was pointless when he had his mind set, Ezio relented and helped him up, Penelope settling down on the artist’s shoulder, leaning in close to the blonde, graying hair.

~*~

After Leonardo opened the secret door that was right under a statue of Pythagoras came puzzle rooms.

They were magnificent, _otherworldly_ , and Penelope had no clue how even a modern man should create such intricate mechanism. Due to the fact that things had to be pulled and pushed around she had to let Ezio have the fun alone.

Well, at least she saw his baffled face when Leonardo just _zoomed_ ahead with her perched on his shoulder as soon as the next door was opened, not even waiting for a second for the Assassin who was not even back on the floor.

After the second room she had to open her wings to keep the wind in the passage to the next room from blowing out their torch and it was desperately needed. Where there had been at least a little light in the last rooms this one was dark. Even she could not make out outlines and saw barely more with the Eagle Vision.

To make more light Leonardo lit an old fire-bowl on the wall. What followed was a chain reaction bordering magic. In a circular pattern other fire-bowls on the room’s – the hall’s – walls lit up, illuminating everything.

The two rooms beforehand were impressive but this one bordered _impossible_. And…was this lava? Looked like it but it was too cold in the room for that. Anyway, Penelope could only watch Ezio doing his neck-breaking jumps to activate the mechanisms. With each thing he unlocked more and more lines under Leonardo’s feet lit up and curled around the hip-high pillar in the middle.

Nothing happened at first when Ezio activated the last one and she could not see anything he had missed.

They inspected the pillar closer. It had lines all over like an inactivated Apple but the pattern was interrupted. Surprisingly – or not so much considering how much he had studied the Apple – Leonardo recognized it and corrected it, effectively unlocking the last seal to innermost chamber of the temple.

Its design clashed greatly with everything else here. To be truthful, it reminded her a bit of X-Men’s Cerebro machine. The round dome structure with the path in the middle.  
Penelope could feel the dormant power behind the walls.

Ezio looked as if he was home. He strode forward and placed his hand on the pedestal as if it was the most natural thing in the world. But it worked.

The power sprung forward projecting numbers and letters everywhere. Both her and Ezio could not make sense of it but their genius managed to bring them in order:

43 39 19 N 75 27 42 W

But he started to get lost in them.

Ezio took control of the situation and steered Leonardo away from it with a never-ending list of rather mundane questions: What does he want to do next? Could he still help him to charter a ship? But there was something still in that room that caught her attention.

~*~

While the Assassin led the Artist away, she flew back inside and landed on the pedestal. It activated…half-way? Not everything the room had at its disposal in terms of power was activated but enough did for her to interact with it.

Somewhat…luckily…the power was not the same kind as the Apple’s; it would not fill her reserves instantly, but it still _changed_ her. It felt like being pulled in two and somehow it was what it did.

She grew taller; the legs longer and her talons shortening. Feathers started to disappear in patches showing _human_ skin.

Somehow, she was caught between the transformation from eagle to human.

The rest of the power in the temple flared up but not to end her transition in either direction, it manifested a hologram of a woman. Despite her strange choice of clothing she was pretty, but her face had something sinister.

**“Oh, I did not think my brother’s pet-project would come even this far but you will change nothing. Nothing at all. Dearest brother mine – watch and learn.”**

A shockwave went through her and four more holograms appeared. All wearing clothes that would match her modern time life. Three were people she did not know but the fourth – she knew that walk.

It was Desmond.

The question of _how_ repeated in her mind and she wanted to flap her wings instinctively, but she was rooted to the spot. Under duress she managed to get out a sound that resembled his name.

And he heard her.

He fucking turned around and _faced_ her.

“Dafuc- Penelope?!”

Everything crashed and her body – back to being fully eagle – was flung against the wall besides the room’s entrance. She did not even hear Ezio’s and Leonardo’s worried calling before blacking out.


	23. An Island

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyho everyone,  
> new short chap 's up and maybe you'll notice that this is now part 1 of a series. Part 2 (TME: Untold Tales) will contain the snippets that I left out of here for various reasons but was sad to do so. So I'll polish them up a bit and load those up in part 2 for you to enjoy.  
> Goodnight.

**“No, you watch and learn sister!”**

Penelope remained consciousness when she heard the voice of the Being calling out in outrage. She was propped against a large stone and she was human.

Two arms, two hands with each five fingers. Two feet in two shoes with toes she could wiggle. Standing up was rather exhausting and an unsteady process. As soon as the Being saw her moving however, he ran over and helped her to stand upright.

Not in danger to fall over any second she took a moment to look around. The world felt strange…unfinished. They were standing on what seemed to be an island, great blackish stone slaps protruding from everywhere.

“Whoopy-do who are you? New things to play with?”

A man manifested out of nowhere. Blonde short hair, brown jacket over a blue shirt. Surprised Penelope stepped behind the Being, that however ran over and embraced the newcomer.

“Aw, you poor thing. What has been done to you?”

The man was understandably baffled and at loss for words but after a few seconds of thought it returned the hug. And just like it did when she first met it, they sunk to the floor and the Being brushed through calmingly through his hair.

Seeing that neither of the two would give her any answers at least in the next few minutes she decided to go exploring the little bit of land they were on. There was sand where the water met the island, grass and stone but whatever she put her hand on felt unreal. From that she decided that this was not part of the world, plain or however one would call it they were on before. It was strangely quiet too, as if someone dialed down on the nature sounds in a game.

Penelope walked around another stone nearly reaching her starting point as she found a body washed up on the shore. She ran over and tried to check for a pulse but there was only _texture_. There was something she pushed against but neither did it felt like skin nor had it the right temperature.

Then her view fell onto the face. Onto the scarred lip.

“Desmond!?”

He woke up to her outcry and started to stand up as if she had just woken him from a deep slumber. At least the surprise about seeing each other was mutual.

“Penelope? You here for real?”

With disbelieve he grabbed her arm, then patted against her shoulders and sides before pulling her into a hug.

“It’s truly you!”

Slightly awkward she patted Desmond’s back too.  
Realizing what he had done he stepped back again quickly.

“Do you know where we are?”

“No, but my companion might. Its currently otherwise occupied.”

“Its?”

“I’ll just show you.”

 

* * *

 

Desmond followed after Penelope. Was she a hallucination even if she had appeared solid when he hugged her? Had he finally lost it? Altair and Ezio were gone too making him take in an appreciative breath that was fully and only _Desmond_.

Despite all the unanswered questions he felt better than ever.

Desmond didn’t have a specific picture in mind when Penelope had spoken of a companion, especially after calling it by a gender-neutral pronoun, but he had at least something human in mind. This in front of him was not human, Isu maybe but even for that this was too un-human.

It was long-limbed, completely golden colored and human shaped but it had no distinguishable features such as nose, ears and mouth. And even were the eyes should be were only a small indents.

And this being snuggled with…

“16?”

16 looked up in surprise as well as this…something.

“Hello Desmond, they did not tell you my name. Clay. It’s Clay Kaczmarek.”

“…Desmond Miles.”

Even if it had no readable features Something seemed happy to see him.

“Desmond! It’s so good to finally see you in person…or mind. Depends on how you look at it.”

He was confused.

Clay glitched out of the Something’s lap right to his side where he swung an arm around him and laid against him with all his weight sending Desmond nearly to the ground.

“Where am I?”

“You’re going crazy Desmond. Breaking apart. _Poof_.,” Clay underlined his words with grand gestures with the hand that did not cling to his shoulder, “or if you want to be specific: you are scrambling together. Altair, Ezio, Desmond – just one big human mush. Whoever thought of this really saved your mind…at least for now.”

Desmond still did not make hands and feet of this and asked for further elaboration.

“Whatever happened to you broke down the last thin walls between you and your ancestors. Your mind is a mess and the Animus keeps it organized. Normally you’d be in a special hospital with a funny white jackets.”

Whatever happened…there had been…the temple! Ezio, or rather Leonardo to be honest, had found coordinates in a temple dedicated to Pythagoras. As soon as he had them, he logged out of the Animus and they had driven to said coordinates.

Another temple.

Juno had waited for them.

Lucy…

LUCY!!!

He had killed Lucy! _Killed_.

The memories crashed into him like a tidal wave. The panic, the inability to refuse the Apple, to refuse Juno. His limbs were not moved by his own power. But still it had been his hand, his Hidden Blade that got buried in his friends gut.

With an anguished cry he wanted to disappear in the ground and never come back, but he couldn’t. Not only was disappearing impossible, a pair of strong hands kept him upright.

It was warm. Nicely warm. And someone brushed through his hair. Very gently, very nice.

When he was calm enough Desmond opened the eyes he had closed. The Something had him cradled against his chest while Penelope hovered concerned nearby and Clay a bit further away.

“Just calm down Desmond. I am so sorry for my sister’s misdeeds.”

“…Sister?”

They were all led to some stones to sit down.

“How rude of me to not introduce myself. I am one of those you call _Isu_. My preferred name however is Peter.”

From behind him, where Penelope sat came a nearly inaudible _I did not know that_.

“Peter is not…a very Isu-ish name?”

“I know. The one most used is Pan but you know, I really liked the human’s story about Neverland, the lost boys, nerver growing up yada-yada-yada. That’s why I like Peter. And that’s not an Isu name is a plus too.”

For the first time in a while Penelope truly spoke up behind him.

“Is something wrong with being Isu?”

“It seemed as if it were time for a story.”

> As you all should know the Isu created humanity to serve their every beck and call. But with so much power being around things where so _boring_. I pride myself to be able to crack everyone with my relentlessness. I spoke to the council, got on their nerves long enough and humans were granted the power of their own thoughts. It spiced things up quite a bit. But it was like kicking loose a domino.  
>  Humans got better with thinking. So, the Isu started to build things which would spread their power and keep humans under control. They felt powerful and that made them content with their situation. But that wasn’t necessary. Humans could think – they can negotiate.  
>  Everything Isu ever made required a lot of humans to maintain. Machines that had made life easier were now so complex that they had to undergo a lot of maintenance. A boring job for ever-creating Isus. That’s why humans were created in the first place. However, I had my own batch of humans, instead of enslaving them I made them an offer. They kept my stuff up and running and I would care for them in turn. Worked very, very well and was one of the best decisions I’ve made even if I had to keep it a secret from the rest.  
>  Then came prediction of the solar flare.  
>  There were so many emergency meetings I can even recall them all. We tried doing things together at first but that failed greatly – personalities crashed and kept everything from going forward. Then we were send out on our own ways. And whoever found a solution would have to report back.  
>  I had not spent power on enslaving humans, I was the most powerful Isu at the time. I went…through a… _phase_ too. They did not like me: _too loud, too obnoxious_. I was the black sheep. Angry I found that my calling was **chaos**. The past was only a memory for me, not something that dictated my future. The past did not bind me as it did the others.  
>  And how to better create chaos than to play with time itself?  
>  It was too much, obviously, nobody can master time because time is the master of all together with space but I found a loop – I like loopholes – and simply created my own plain of existence. It took nearly all of my power, but it was worth it. My plain has its own time, independent of your time.  
>  I cannot change the past I know. But here is the other loophole! I can let others change it. As long as the one going back in time does not know how the past should be it works. I just align my plain with your reality and let out whoever I want. Or take in.  
>  This is another thing.  
>  Because the plain was created by me it can only be used by someone like me. That’s why I gave as many of my people as I could the sixth sense, something that had been exclusively been for Isu even Minerva did it to some specially chosen individuals. But those were so few it is more likely that someone with Eagle Vision – as you call it – comes from my house not hers. I had heard of what the other Isu, those I know call siblings where planning and I overheard Juno’s schemes to hijack Minerva’s plan. At this point I was too weak to do anything. I barely was able to create something that represented me in reality and retreat into the Plain. That’s why I look rather bland – had not been able to make a proper representation of me in the Plain and was too lazy to do it later on.  
>  And I have been in the Plain ever since. Calling together help to bring Juno to her knees when the time is right.

The ground started shaking and it sounded like breaking glass. From Clay came only an _O-oh_ which meant it was nothing good.

Desmond looked hectically around, the Animus simulation was collapsing around them. Clay grabbed him and shoved him into the direction of a large portal.

“When you want out of here piece yourself back together. Look at what Ezio has to tell you until there is nothing more that can be told. I keep the Animus from deleting you like a Virus.”

“Okey?”

The Some- Peter walked over to Clay and laid its hand against his forehead.

“You’ll make sure that Desmond gets out of here. I have given you a chance to live if you succeed.”

“I have no body anymore, its food for the worms.”

“Please, you speak to someone resembling a _god;_ I can play with time. Penelope, we got to go now my sister wants to wipe us out.”

With that Peter picked Penelope up like a doll and disappeared in a swarm of fireflies.

“What are you still doing here Desmond, GO!”

Clay pushed him into the portal and glitched away.


	24. Do you like Chiara? (11/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I shuffled this chap around alot. It's no fun if you find a small but significant -wrong- detail when you thought you were finished with your work and then have to revise everything. (On the positive side: I did found the mistake before posting it)  
> I read through it multiple times and I hope I smoothed it out but yeah...maybe more grammar/spelling mistakes than normal ahead.
> 
> Anyway, happy reading!  
> (Self-beta'd)

Leonardo and Ezio stopped in their tracks as soon as they noticed that Chiara wasn’t following them.

“Chiara?”

A cry echoed through every hall; high-pitched and thundering loudly it went through the hole body and on instinct the Assassin pulled the Artist with him to the ground below him and covered his ears – it did very little to dull the power of this _inhuman_ shriek.

The horror lasted just five seconds but had imbedded itself into their minds, Ezio had never heard anything like it before; not even one of the tortured souls he had met ever let out something this bone-rattling. He looked down to ensure the safety of his friend who was breathing rapidly but was otherwise fine.

Then they both jumped up and ran back into the heart of the temple.

Ezio was the first one to arrive and it took him some moments to locate their eagle. She was not far from the entrance away on the floor, but what truly terrified him was the damage on wall. It was if someone had shot a canon against it and Chiara laid in the rubble.

Behind him came a loud gasp and Leonardo pushed him away to run to her. Leonardo’s hands were visibly shaking as they brushed away dust and pebbles.

She was breathing.

She was alive!

Ezio went down where the other was already kneeling. She was limp in Leonardo’s gasp but was…alright?! No feather was out of place and every bone was where it should be.

“We have to get out of here, now.”

Leonardo agreed instantly. He took the red cape off his shoulders and wrapped Chiara up in it, then he stood up and offered Ezio a hand who took it.

The way out was easy, with all the puzzles solved they could just jog right out. As soon as they passed the large entrance stone however, it came back down and blocked the way back inside. From deep within came the sound of mechanisms working and stones grinding, probably resetting everything. Hopefully.  
Nobody should get in here again.

~*~

The way home was a somber affair. Chiara did not even do as much as twitch and weren’t it for the up and down movement of her chest they would presume her dead. Ezio easily could’ve gone back to the Assassin hideout but Leo offered him a place for the night, and he wanted to leave neither of his friends alone until it was clear how Chiara was faring.

Salaì had been dozing on the couch when they came home but he jumped up as soon as they came through the door.

“Everybody alright?!”

Nobody answered the teen who looked uncharacteristically worried. Then his eyes fell onto the bundle Leonardo was carrying and he ran forward to pull the red cloth away from the bird. Tired Leo spoke up:

“She’s alive…but we do not know what happened.”

Salaì held his fingers against Chiara’s chest until he was assured of her breathing.  Then he gently closed the bundle back up and took in their worn-down state.

“I-…I’ll make a bed ready for you.”

Now out of imminent danger and in familiar surroundings Ezio’s shoulders slumped down and the tension escaped out of his body. He was so tired. So tired that even waking up after a good night’s sleep did seem unwanted. He didn’t even have it in him to scoff at Salaì who had just thrown a second set of blanket and cushion on Leonardo’s bed for them. The artist however wasn’t in a better state to say anything and flopped down on the left side, leaving space for him on the right. Chiara was placed between them on the pillow.

Salaì stood awkwardly in the doorway of the bedroom with a blanket in his arm, shuffling from one foot to the other. Leonardo looked up and sighed; then he patted his blanket. The boy’s face lit up and joined them. Ezio and Leonardo had no space to shuffle to either side but Salaì seemed to be content to lay diagonally on the blanket at the height of their feet.

It was crowded but not _bad_. To be honest, he actually slept very well – no nightmares, just simple black nothingness.

~*~

The sun was well over the horizon as something woke him the next morning and he did not know what it was at first. During the night Leonardo turned to lay on his stomach and had a hand around his right wrist, the arm over the shoulders from Salaì. Said teen had crawled halfway upwards and was squished between them, his hands buried in Ezio’s clothes. And then he found what woke him.

Chiara.

The eagle was out of the cape-bundle and was laying on her back with her wings spread wide, her left talon twitching like the foot of a dreaming dog. And her right wingtip ended just above his eyebrow, tickling him.

Carefully he eased his wrist out of Leonardo’s hold, who then snuggled himself harder against Salaì, and started to brush through the white feathers. Chiara shuffled slightly and started to open her eyes blinking as if she had just been asleep.

“ _Chiara_!”

She gave him a gentle, friendly trill and maneuvered herself to lay closer to his head, spreading her wing protectively over him. It gave him another hour to sleep until the others started to wake.

As soon as Leo was up Chiara disappeared in a formidable hug.

 

* * *

 

Cesare was still alive. And the new Pope could assure Ezio all he wanted that Cesare was being taken care of, Ezio had left a Borgia alive _once_ – he would not do it again. Cesare was even more cunning than his father and he wouldn’t put it past him to somehow escape from wherever he was being detained at the moment.

Julius II refused to reveal Cesare’s prison and he was too much of a good Pope and Assassin sympathizer to use more _drastic_ measures to acquire the information. And he knew that Ezio was after the Borgia and he had an inkling of his skillset so he wouldn’t be dumb enough to just have some documents around where it was written down.

The only shot they had at finding Cesare was finding his right-hand man Micheletto Corella. He had been Cesare’s friend since childhood and had been seen around him ever since. They had him captured after he and his henchmen dared to lay a hand on his sister. Ezio would’ve liked to kill him on the spot if he hadn’t the information they wanted. The diehard Borgia sympathizer however was harder to kill than an ant and, much to his frustration, managed to come free on the day of his planned execution.

After that, the original plan was to follow the fleeing man back to his Master, but they had lost track of him and had to lay a good Assassin duo to eternal rest. The Brotherhood had nothing on him, not even the littlest hint.

Ezio was at his end with ideas so only one was left.

Chiara.

Ever since the Pythagorean Temple something about her…scared…him. Ezio got to know her as a fluffball who couldn’t hurt a fly unless someone she cared about was threatened. Then she went on a full mamabear-mode but it had always been just protective not _aggressive_. But in the Temple…she did not even hesitate. The burning rage in her eyes – something he had never seen before – and the bloody splatters across her white and golden feathers gave her the appearance of a crazed monstrosity. He had felt the power that danced around her not much unlike a dormant Apple of Eden but far more uncontrollable. It had shifted his view on her completely. Something absolutely terrifying and ruthless was caged below the eagle exterior and just this one glimpse at it gave him goosebumps.

But he had always considered Chiara a friend. If not family.

She had tried to safe his and succeeded somewhat!

But still, he didn’t have it in him to visit her and Leo after it was clear that she was alright and the event truly sunk in.

Bloody white feathers and burning golden rage.

Unsure he stood in front of the workshop door. From the inside Salaì’s laugh was hearable followed by a quieter chuckle of Leonardo. And a happy trill made by the resident eagle.

He took in a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in, it’s open.”

Ezio was greeted by chaos. More so than usual.  
One of the cupboards was thrown over and Leonardo was sitting, disheveled looking, in a large box filled to the brim with paper-rolls, besides it. Salaì was on the other end of the room, mirth dancing in his eyes and Chiara on his shoulder.

“Oh, good day Ezio. Could you help me for a second?”

Careful to not squish something under his feet that could be important he walked over to the stuck Artist and heaved him out.

“Thank you very much, I miscalculated greatly.”

“What happened?”

“An unfortunate string of events. We were testing small flight models – I created some more after your successful flight – and I was too close to the cupboard while I tried to throw one. Hit it making it wobble dangerously. Of course, I moved out of the way but fell over a stack of books and landed in this box,” Leonardo petted said box, “and while I did that, I kicked the cupboard again and it finally fell over.”

Ezio sighed, his friend could be so clumsy at times.

“You’re alright and that’s what is important.”

After a greeting hug, together they picked up the thrown over furniture and started to place the fallen-out contents back inside.

“Ah how rude of me, was there something you needed Ezio?”

“Eh yes, I wanted to ask Chiara if she could help me with something.”

“You were searching again for Cesare’s right-hand man, right?”

“Yes, Micheletto. We don’t find anything on him though so maybe Chiara can pick up something.”

“I am sure she will try.”

 

* * *

 

_“I am sure she will try.”_

Of course, she would, Penelope was good at tracking.

She trilled and nodded her head in a yes. Normally Ezio would’ve offered his arm by now to at least greet her but his attention was strangely focused on Leonardo. In the end she vacated on Leo’s shoulder until they were outside on the roof.

There she got airborne and first looked over the city for anything. Nothing. Not even a mini crumb of something golden colored. Then she flew higher to have a good view onto the horizon.

And there was this feeling again. As if someone was walking up her spine. It was gone after a good shaking.

The horizon to the south-east had a golden tint. It was not much but it was at least a direction. When she circled home, she found Ezio on his knees with Leo stabilizing his sitting position. He was clutching his head and was groaning in pain.

Worried she landed in front of him and gently nudged against the Assassin’s chest. The brown eyes that met her gaze had a golden tint over them but with her friend in pain she dismissed it. Whatever he felt must be agonizing because the corners of his eyes were glittering with unshed tears.

It took some long minutes until Ezio stopped seizing up too much and Leo and Salaì, who had come at his teachers panicked calling, could carry him back inside. He was laid down on the couch and wrapped up in a blanket while the teen prepared some tea. Leonardo sat in such a way that allowed Ezio to lay his head into the other’s lap and she snuggled against Ezio’s chest, hoping to bring him some comfort.

“What had happened Ezio?”

“I don’t know…just give me a bit of time and all…should be fine again.”

“Should be…? This is not the first time!? Why didn’t you tell somebody about it?”

Ezio kept quiet. Leonardo brushed his hair out of his face.

“Ezio, where do you go next?”

“Somewhere south-eastish.

“I am coming with you.”

“What?!”

“I can’t stop you, but I can make sure that you’re not alone.”

“I can take some more of my students if you’re worried about that. And Niccolò will definitely be coming with me.”

“No, not happening. I am coming with you.”

“But- your workshop!”

“Salaì can look after it.”

Two pigheaded fellows.  
But it was actually a good idea.  
She would’ve gone with Ezio to help him find his way but with this way she didn’t have to leave Leo behind. And the Artist could go out more. It had been some time since he had a change of scenery.

~*~

They all went together. Leonardo, Niccolò and Ezio, each on a horse saddled up with everything needed to survive outside for some time and her flying over their heads leading them wherever her vision led them.

It was a chase and with that an uncomfortable ride – especially for the Artist wo was not used to the constant strain. To his credit he never uttered one little complain and stretched his aching muscles and bones in silence whenever he could. Though he got some awesome new sketches when Ezio and Niccolò sparred when they had to let the horses rest.

On the third day Naples appeared on the horizon in a color-coded gold. Good news, just like the fact that Ezio had not collapsed again and seemed to be as fit as ever.

As soon as they arrived the beautiful city the two Assassin’s left Leonardo and in extension her in an inn in the middle of the city and went on to search for clues about the runaway Micheletto. That she would’ve been faster…nobody wanted to listen and Ezio simply grabbed her, where she had landed during the one-sided discussion, and pressed her into the hands of Leo.

Penelope was torn. It was important to get to Micheletto so they could get to Cesare and she wanted to be in the front line to help but when she looked at Leo…he needed her.

Out of fear for his friend he had slept little to nothing and had always sat besides Ezio when they had a break in the last few days checking him over and over.

Leonardo however wasn’t the youngest anymore, he had passed his 50s and life hadn’t been free of struggle. His face had become a canvas of worry and laugh-lines and his brilliant blonde mane slowly but surely faded into a wise-man’s silver. Only his eyes still had their old shine, mesmerizing blue, always wanting for new things.

It all took a toll on him even if he did not want to admit it.

_Help him._

Penlope looked around to find the source of the voice, finding nothing. She wanted to brush it aside as nothing and resumed watching Leo while he ate dinner.

Then, out of control, her Eagle Vision activated. Startled, she tried to move nothing to not alert her friend should it be a fluke because nothing sensed even remotely like _dangerous_ or _warning_. Green mist danced besides their table and formed into something, with a bit of eye squinting, humanoid.

_You like him, I like him._  
_Share tiny bits of your energy_  
 _with him in the next few days._  
 _He’ll feel better_  
 _and he’ll be officially family._

It was Peter. Or a vague manifestation of him. It was rather hard to gasp if the encounter with the Isu just had happened seeing that it never had happened before but nevertheless it was a good idea. _If_ she knew how.

As soon as her vision was back to normal however, fatigue overcame her, and Leo did not miss that.

“Are you tired my dear? Come over and catch some sleep. You’ve done a lot in the last few days.”

Penelope accepted the offer and made herself comfortable in his lap, ignoring the stares of those around them.

 

* * *

 

It was a good thing that he didn’t stand up and reserved rooms for the night at the counter – what he would’ve done if Chiara wouldn’t have slept in his lap. Because, let it be two hour later, Ezio and Niccolò came back with news.

Micheletto was already gone.

It took some insistent research and prodding until they found someone who had seen the right-hand Borgia _and_ was willing to reveal where he went. He had taken a ship towards Valencia.

Now Leonardo had to move if he wanted to or not, the pursue had to continue. To his relieve Chiara did not wake when he switched her position from his lap to laying against his chest so he could easily carry her around. Such a sweet bird. Always ready to help the Brotherhood but in the end, she always came back to him. And he did not care if it was selfish, it was a good thought.

Their things were packed onto one horse and the two others were sold. The third would be too when, if, they boarded a ship heading to Valencia. His companions where the first to ask around for a ship heading into their required direction. Seeing how badly they did he took over.

Niccolò was an intense personality which unnerved most people and Ezio was bad at dialing down the Assassin aura unless it was for flirting.

Leonardo had no luck with the first one, he went into a totally different direction but the second one was helpful. He wasn’t heading to Valencia, but he knew one that would in three hours at the other end of the port.

It was a merchant ship that could take them over the sea for a prize but not having expected not only one but three last minute passengers it had neither a room prepared nor food calculated. The rations they had with them had to be enough for less than a week.

They could do nothing more than accept the offer and get on board if they wanted any chance of catching up on Micheletto. In the cargo hold they could shuffle some boxes around to have a bit of space, but it wasn’t much. Their thin travel-mats did nothing to soften the floor and Leonardo’s backside was aching painfully after the first night.

The second however was the worst even if they were not required to be on deck. Mother nature played with their boat like a boy with his toy. Wind howled through crooks and ninnies, wave after wave crashed into the ship and threw them from side to side. This night Leonardo did not sleep. Again. He was standing, with one hand holding Chiara to his chest humming along to her soft trilling. To the same song she always sung when they needed comfort. Simple tones up and down but beautiful all the same. Where had she learned it? Which of her time? With his other hand he tried to keep himself upward when the ship took another hard dip.

~*~

The following day was a clashing contrast. Where the winds had tore at the sails just hours ago was nothing, not even the smallest breeze. Now that they could go safely on deck they did.

Technically it was a setback but, in this moment, Leonardo just enjoyed the calmness of the sea and dozed leaning against the railing. By midday, Ezio was ready to walk up walls and was visibly glad when he was allowed to climb up the mast. Sparring fights would draw too much attention – not that his monkey-like climbing didn’t.

Chiara used the time to entertain herself and the sailors with catching fish in a just spectacular way and showoff flight maneuvers. The golden feathers and the small dried salt crystals in her feathers made her shine like the most precious diamond in the world.

She was just a majestic being.

After that day the wind picked up normally again and after five days Leonardo was just done. Would he have less dignity and no aching bones he would’ve kissed the ground of the port.  
And now added to his aching bones was a massive headache.

And in typical Ezio fashion they just couldn’t find Micheletto without a fight outbreak. That in return allowed Micheletto to flee. The only positive thing out of it was the henchman that just fell unconscious after a hit and did not fall to a blade. After a bit of _convincing_ from Ezio’s side he revealed the location Micheletto was heading for. The location, where Cesare was being detained.

Leonardo held strong unto the fact that it had to be over soon. It became harder to find the motivation to leave the bed and fight through the head-splitting headache. Chiara seemed to notice something, snuggling more often than ever to his side, but she did not stop him. It had to be enough.

Maybe he should have stayed home but he did not trust Ezio with his severe near-fainting-because-of-pain. He knew that there were illnesses out in the world that seemed like nothing at first but then reduced people in just a few weeks to utter wrecks. Hopefully it wasn’t something like this.

Leonardo could not imagine an Ezio defeated by illness. Laying sickly and still in his bed – or trashing around in hallucinations until the body gave up. He shuddered at the thought and climbed into the saddle. The years in which he could travel unhindered by age were coming to an end. He would take in everything he could as long as his body would allow it.

~*~

They rode hard, the horses huffing with every breath they took, hooves thundering on the ground.

It was not enough though; they were too late.

Cesare was gone and nobody yet knew how.

In the distance Leonardo could hear Ezio asking for new horses but his body could do no more. The exhaustion, the stress…it was too much. Disheartened he sunk against the stonewall of the prison-fortress Castillo de la Mota.

“Leonardo!”

A pair of strong hands pulled him upward again and he found his head on Ezio’s shoulder.

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. You’re… you’re burning up!”

The Master Assassin held him steady while Niccolò asked around if there were quarters they could use. Two soldiers were kind enough to relocate from their half-empty barrack room so they had a four-person room to themselves.

As soon as Leonardo’s head hit the cushion, he was out.

 

* * *

 

They stopped running after Cesare and Micheletto in favor of getting back to full strength. It took Leonardo the longest.

Penelope figured out after two nights how to transfer some of her energy to Leo. She spread all across him to get as much of her golden feathers to touch him as possible. It was a lot of mental work and she did not have much time alone with him. She _could_ do it with Ezio or Niccolò present, but she wanted neither to freak out when her colored feathers started glowing.

What she had to do was to re-create an energy-flow similar to an Apple. This made her inner energy accessible, then she had to re-direct it and leave just tiny bits in Leo. After her third day of doing this the Artist had improved significantly but also had a golden band around his right wrist.

She could only hope that nobody noticed this and that it wouldn’t be permanent. So far nobody did. The stripe was well-enough camouflaged in Leo’s sun-kissed skin tone as long as no direct light hit it.

 

* * *

 

Consciousness came slowly to him. It was a good thing. The darkness had been refreshing for him and a direct onslaught of information would’ve been too much.

It was nice.

Leonardo felt better than ever.

With a lot of blinking the room came into view. Mostly grey stone and wood furniture; he could see a bunk bed on which Ezio’s cape hung. Chiara was tugged against his left side. The curtain in front of the window dimmed the light to a bearable degree.

With a sigh he moved his free had up to rub the last sleep out of his eyes when he froze. As soon as his nose had made contact with his wrist, he noticed something different.

Then he repeated the notion just to be sure and then turned to look at it. He had a smooth golden band around his wrist, and it wasn’t jewelry. Carefully he freed his other hand to feel over it, it was _in_ his skin. Not just a discoloration, it was colder than the rest of his skin and it was _smooth_. Just as if he was touching something polished.

Chiara trilled and disrupted his staring. She looked…as if she were apologizing? Mindful of her talons she stepped onto his chest and curled her wing around the golden band on his wrist.

“This is your doing?”

She nodded ashamed.

“Well…now we wear matching colors.”


	25. Do you like Chiara? (12/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyho,  
> this story reached a lenght of over 100k *whoop whoop*; with that its thrice as long as my first rough length-estimate and because its now about in the middle in terms of planned plot many chapters more are ahead - if you want to read that much.  
> have a nice day everyone and happy reading :)
> 
> PS: University started again for me so uploading new chaps may take longer.  
> (self-beta'd)

It didn’t take Ezio long to barge into the room and embrace Leo with a big bear hug after seeing him awake. The Assassin had been truly troubled over the sick state of his friend and blamed himself for not noticing it sooner. And Leo, being the person that he was, denied it every time Ezio brought it up with a smile on his face.

Now, that Leonardo felt better they wanted to leave the barracks and trade them for hopefully better accommodations in an inn in the nearby city. Ezio was just helping the other out of his shirt without toppling over his still wobbly legs when he froze.

Confused by the Assassin’s reaction Leonardo turned his head to see what was wrong but the other was staring at his back with his jaw slack. His worry was evident in his voice:

“What is…wrong?”

Ezio was clearly struggling with his words, waving his hands as if he could catch them from thin air. Now, just short of panicking Leonardo turned his body around too and finally Penelope could see what got Ezio – of all people – speechless.

The blonde’s shirt was still partially riled up and even with just this little bit of exposed skin she could see it.

A golden circuit board pattern.

Her startled squeak pushed Leonardo deeper into his panic.

“What _is_ **_wrong_?!**”

With his outcry Ezio – at last – set into motion and embraced Leonardo, shushing him.

“Nothing is wrong…it’s just…I can’t describe it. You have to see it for yourself.”

It was quite a feat to find two things, large and shiny polished, that could work as substitute mirrors to show Leonardo what exactly was on his backside. The pattern was as scary as it was pretty. Nobody knew what to do with the revelation dumped upon them.

In the end they could only change clothes and continue on. Without talking to each other they came to the silent agreement to not say a single word to Machiavelli until they knew what it was; or at least how to deal with it.

~*~

Penelope felt _bad_. Being with Leo gave her a new appreciation for art and the golden lines were just gorgeous and worked surprisingly well with his blonde hair and sun-kissed skin.

…she had fabricated it – so it shouldn’t affect Leonardo badly in _any_ way. But it had been done without his consent.  
Guilt ate away in her stomach and squeezed her chest tightly.

_Please don’t let it be permanent._

Only time would tell. But still, she didn’t want it on her conscience that Leo got an involuntary tattoo. Where tattoos even a thing in this time-period?

_Help!_

 

* * *

 

On the whole ride back to town Leonardo couldn’t stop scratching his lower back – the golden lines he could easily reach and marvel in the difference of texture. He did not know what Chiara had done to him – and going by her reaction to his backside, she did not either – but he felt good. Better than ever. He still noticed his joints, but they weren’t aching as bad as they had been before; his energy reserves as full as in his long-gone teenage years. Even his fingers moved effortless where they had gotten stiff with age.

Whatever she had done, it was good, despite having to always having his back now covered when he was outside – not that he had ever taken his shirt off in public. In his workshop he had to get up some better mirrors and make a picture of the whole pattern for himself; maybe Salaì could sketch it for him?

“Is everything alright Leonardo?”

“Niccolò? Yes! Yes, everything is fine…my…shirt is just itching.”

The other gave him a weird look but did not comment on it further. He had to be more careful.

After another hour the group reached the outskirts of Valencia and something was different. Very much different. There was a strange kind of _energy_ in the air that gave him goosebumps.

Due to those circumstances Ezio insisted on going alone but neither Leonardo not Niccolò would leave their friend. And he had been in bed for quite a while – stretching his limbs would be good for him, testing his seemingly _new_ limits.

The sun was hidden behind rainclouds and tufts of mist coming from the sea creeped through the nearly empty streets. Too quiet. Too silent. Too, too… too much of nothing. Like second nature his hand wandered to Chiara on his shoulder and started to brush through her feathers to calm himself. It was very grounding.

After finding little hints here and there they came to the conclusion that the city had fallen under the thrall of Cesare. That would explain the sudden mood-turn of the city. True evidence came in a camp filled with people wearing the Borgia’s color and emblem and the ships anchoring in the port.

It were far too many to be taken out by Ezio and Niccolò alone – not that he liked that his friends tend to dispatch many people in the bloody way. Even if it was a short death.

Cesare however had to be stopped.

They needed something that could dispatch great masses of people with one strike, something like his war machines. Those were destroyed and gone, and he had burned the most important notes on them; in addition, they needed a lot of time and resources to construct – time they didn’t had right now.

Cesare could not grow even larger and more powerful.

If he did, not only the guards around him would die, many _many_ more innocent would too.

Leonardo did not want to kill someone or have a hand in killing someone. Building Ezio’s gear was a far stretch out of his comfort zone, an endeavor mostly fueled by his curiosity over Altair’s notes. But now…

They needed something fast and small.

Something that could explode!

That was it! Explosives! He knew how to make them thanks to his contract he got about four years ago. Sultan Beyazid II did not approve of his final bridge-design; deeming it to be _impossible to work_ but he had learned a lot during his stay. Including the wonders of explosions.

“Ezio, I have a solution. Can you get me some things?”

~*~

Leonardo weighted one of the metal bombs in his hand. Unlike the others he had seen what it did in action and knew that its innocence was deceiving. Even this small it was a great destructive force. And evolution would take it further and further.

He shuddered at the thought about what magnitude the explosives would reach in the future. It was futile to hope that they miraculous disappeared for ever instead of being developed further. More dangerous.

“Hold still.”

To his left Ezio was helping Chiara to get into her own gear. As much as he was convinced that she always returned to him he couldn’t stop the pang in his chest just how _right_ the two together looked. White and polished silver with red accents.

She was an Assassin’s Eagle.

And his little blessing.

“Ezio, the bombs are finished,” he put the one in his hand into the larger satchel of two and gave those to the Assassin. Fifteen times deadly metal, “the smaller one contains five with a long fuses so Chiara can carry them, the larger one contains ten bombs with a short fuse. They are simple igniting, throwing and taking cover. Hear me? _Take cover_ and be gone as far away from them as you can!”

“I will.”

Ezio was serious, his eyes gone dark. In front of him now was not Ezio Auditore da Firenze it was **Mentor** Ezio Auditore.

Leonardo found himself in a hug and his hands clung automatically to the backside of his friend. This – these bombs – were the riskiest thing he had ever created for him; far more than the wrist pistol. If something went wrong with them, Ezio would definitely not survive it.

“I promise to fight with everything I can to come back home.”

It was the best truthful promise he would get. Leonardo would have liked _I promise I return_ but this was something easily broken in the Assassin’s line of work. Ezio would never tell him a lie nor would he promise something he could not hold.

With a stone in his chest he watched as his closest friends walked out of the door. He had no place in a fight. While Niccolò would dispatch the camp, Ezio would sink the ships.

He sighed – out of fear or sadness, he did not know.

 

* * *

 

Anticipation cursed through Ezio’s veins making him giddy. It was just like the lifetime ago when he sneaked into the window of Christina, trying to stay undetected by her parents or guards.

Only this was a _hunt_.

Fight was not a name for it. He had something new, something exiting made by Leonardo himself meant to dispatch many in short time.

And whatever Leonardo had did in the past had worked spectacular – this would too.

Silently he dispatched two guards and threw them into the water – the weight of their armor pulling them down into the depts of the sea.

With a deep breath he got out the first bomb, one with a long fuse for Chiara to carry.

“You ready?”

She nodded and got airborne. On her cry he lit the fuse and held the bomb into the air. Just fractions of a second later he heard the clank of her reinforced claws scratching his climbing gloves and the bomb was gone.

He held his breath.

He could see the ball falling where Chiara dropped it. While she flew back as fast as she could it felt, at the same time, that everything happened in slow-motion.

The ball disappeared behind the railing.

**_BOOOOOOMMM!!!!!!!!!!_ **

“ _Shit!!_ ”

The whole ship was torn _apart_! It was a good thing Chiara was gone as fast as she did otherwise she would’ve been hit by the debris. Wood. Cries. Fire.

Destruction.

Ezio grinned.

This was better than he could ever imagine!

Over him Chiara screeched again.

The Assassin started to run while he dug out the next bomb. He lit it, held it up and it was snatched.  
While he jumped over some posts in the water to come closer to the next ship his trusty eagle flew to the other side.

Ezio went as close as he could and threw a bomb of his own with a great swing. For a moment it looked as if he threw too short, but it went just a tad bit further than the railing on deck.

**_B-BOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!_ **

Two ships exploded. Just in the nick of time led by instinct he jumped a post back – otherwise he would’ve gotten hit by a wooden plank. Luckily, he was not.

Ezio’s eyes fell onto the little boat not much unlike a gondola from Venice.

They had more ships to sink.

~*~

Ezio came back with Chiara on his shoulder soaking wet. The last explosion had been the best but had also been the most dangerous. There had been three left that were standing close to each other. They went with the middle first and hit the vessels gunpowder reserves. The amplified explosion created a domino effect, destroying the other two as well in one go.

Those two ships however had gunpowder reserves as well and Ezio had no other way out of the flying wood planks and other things than jumping into the water. But they were the lasts, so it wasn’t a problem that the bombs now were wet and unusable.

He felt high on emotions.

“Going by your grin and the noise your part was a success?”

Ezio’s smile was gone in an instant and he swirled around with his blade. Niccolò dived under the slash.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that…how was your part?”

“I dispatched as many as I could, but some ran out when you detonated the ships. And I overheard a discussion: Cesare is around here somewhere.”

Ezio straightened his shoulders.

“What are we waiting for? Can you locate him for me Chiara?”

~*~

It was true, Cesare Borgia and his right-hand man Micheletto Corella where just a handful of streets away from them arguing about something.

There was a lot of shouting on Cesare’s side they were however too far away to make out the exact words. There weren’t many hiding spots either.

Ezio wanted to pull his fellow Assassin back behind the wall they had been standing but Niccolò continued onwards and he could do nothing else than to follow.

Now hiding in doorways closer to the two they could understand them.

“You are nothing without me. _Nothing_!”

“That’s not true! I got you out of that prison!”

“And led _Assassins_ here you imbecile!”

“How dare you-!”

Micheletto unsheathed his sword and moved to attack Cesare. He only came one step forward when the Borgia expertly pulled out his left holstered gun and shot him in the face. It was a gruesome wound.

As he was trained Ezio looked for a way onto the roofs to get a drop on his target, but a second shot followed by a gasp of pain rung through the evening air.

Niccolò!

Cesare had a mad grin on his face and ran away laughing.

Ezio forgot to breath as he saw the large amount of red on his friends’ shoulder and just wanted to run after the Borgia to tore him to shreds. But the other needed medical attention. Now.

“Chiara!”

Her shadow wandered over them.

“Follow the bastard! I come as soon as I can!”

She screeched affirmative and flew off in the direction Cesare went.

Carefully, he sat Niccolò up and bandaged the wound to stem the blood-flow. Then he helped him up and trust his Eagle Vision to help him find help for the other.

 

* * *

 

The metal on her talons clicked when Penelope rearranged them to keep herself from dropping onto the Borgia. She was angry.

And it was because of that anger that she had to reign herself to not give herself away.

Ezio gave her the order to trail him; she would trail him. That was her task. The Borgia wore too much metal anyway to do the kill herself. Bastard.

She followed him when he saddled up and rode out of the city, followed him over fields and with the help of her vision through dense forests. Penelope did not care for the soldiers that came and went.

She followed Cesare.

The ride ended in an army camp and she sat down on a nearby tree – anything closer and somebody would notice her.

Night came.

Sun rose.

Dawn.

Another night.

Hunger forced her to abandon her post for a few minutes a day, but her attention was always on the camp, on Cesare.

Where was Ezio?

.

.

.

How should Ezio find her?!

It was a valid question. As far as she knew Ezio’s Eagle Vision was not strong enough to work over large distances. But he also told her to follow Cesare.

She missed Leo.

It was boring.

Each passing day more soldiers arrived and filled even the smallest tent to the brim. Cesare was planning something grand with John something of Narval, Narvalle? Someone who was named something alike this and had an army at his disposal.

Please Ezio.

~*~

It was maybe her fifth day – she had lost track – when a shudder run down her spine. It was like a cold claw that squeezed her just enough to take make it hard to breathe. As she had done it before she tried shaking it away, but the feeling not only stayed it intensified.

_Shhh…calm down._

What the fuck was happening?!

_It’s me, so stop panicking. The more you strain against it the more it hurts._

Penelope knew this voice, but she was too creeped out to care. Whoever it was should leave her alone! Her mind and her mind alone! Another one softer spoke up in her mind.

_It’s alright Chiara. Deep breath. Calm down. CALM DOWN!_

She nearly had the voice droned out, just a bit further…!

**_RISHA!_ **

She froze.

_That’s it, good girl. Ezio is just trying to contact you with the Apple. Nothing bad is happening._

It was Leonardo. And Ezio. Somehow the two managed to utilize the artifact. Calming down helped too, she still felt a bit icy, but she could breathe freely again.

_Ok, hello Chiara, Ezio here. Where are you?_

“How should I know?”

_Look around you…did she just spoke?!_

_How exiting! The Apple seems to be translating Chiara’s thoughts._

_…she spoke!_

_Ezio, I told you she was intelligent._

Penelope sighed and got out the question that had been burning in her mind for a while now.

“How is Niccolò?”

_Niccolò, he-…he is ok. It was a clean shot through that should heal completely with enough time and rest._

“That’s a relieve.”

A stone fell off her chest and she sighed, eased by the news. Still, that did not answer the question how they could locate her.

“How will you find me?”

_Eh…_

_Chiara, how do you find your targets over a large distances?_

Leonardo did not know about the Eagle Vision, did he? Penelope tried to keep it as generic as possible with hopefully enough information to be understandable for Ezio.

“I look for the gold on the horizon if it’s not within viewing distance.”

_What do you mean?_

_Your reach is that far?_

_Ezio, you know what she is talking about?_

_Yes, a special Vision. It helps finding things and people._

She interrupted them before the discussion could take on larger proportions. A headache was forming in her head.

“Try it with the Apple and then hone in on me. I think you tried to connect before. Now that I know it’s you, I won’t kick you out so you should be able to find me.”

_Ok…there’s noth- oh, there is something! There is a faint golden smudge in the direction of our north wall._

“Good. Just follow that. It’s maybe a three days ride but here is a whole army assembled. Under no circumstances come unprepared.”

_I will._

There was a long pause and for a second she thought the two had disconnected but it was Leo who spoke up again.

_Chiara, I won’t be coming with Ezio._

That was to be expected; why was there a _but_ in the air?

_I want home, I’ll be sailing home and take Niccolò with me. Things have been left unattended for too long._

“What?!”

_Ezio will bring you home when you two are finished…and you will be coming home to me, you hear me!?_

“Loud and clear. As long as you’ll be there opening the door for me.”

Penelope had a flash of wit. Leonardo could understand her currently perfectly.

“Leo, I love you.”

_I love you too._

“Give Ezio a hug from me too.”

The ice was gone.

~*~

With wide eyes Penelope watched the army assemble. Foot soldiers, cavalry and siege towers.  
They had been preparing to attack the nearby city!

Ezio hurry up.

 

* * *

 

Ezio rode his horse hard and he would’ve felt bad if it wasn’t so important. Their discussion with Chiara gave him a whole new set of questions atop of those he already had.

\- How much of that was truly Chiara and what was the Apple filling gaps?

\- Why was Leonardo able to interact with the Apple too and Niccolò, who had been with them in the room, did not?

\- Why did she stop panicking when Leonardo called her _Risha_ , like the great Masayaf Eagle of old?

If he wouldn’t have a slight headache from the stress Cesare’s hunt created those would definitely give him another one.

Especially in the last few hours the golden smudge in his Vision started to grow denser and smaller – he could not be too far away from Chiara now.

The first notable thing he came across was an empty military camp. It was not abandoned, and it was large which would mean that the inhabiting army was somewhere around. Knowing his enemy, it was not a large conclusion jump that it was an army led by Cesare Borgia.

A look onto the map Leonardo had given him told him the next larger settlement was Viana.

It didn’t take long to hear the first sounds of cannonballs striking down on anything in their path. The familiar cry of an eagle was a welcome distraction. And not even ten seconds later he had an armful of bird, forcing him to stop the horse or ride on uncontrolled.

“Hello Chiara.”

She trilled happily.

It was still strange to think that there was the possibility of _actual words_ behind every trill and squeak she did. But it was a thought he could not hold long with the cuddly eagle in his lap. He indulged in it for a few minutes before he went to the point of this whole ordeal.

“Dear, where is Cesare?”

The cry sounded like a _follow me_. Anyhow, she got airborne and he followed.

There he was.

Cesare Borgia.

Surrounded by his men, the bastard was hacking down on the small opposing force in the outskirts of the city. Sadly, before he could ride right up to him his horse was cut down and he had to jump off to not be squished under the heavy animal.

The entrance was enough however to be noticed by Cesare.

“How did you find me Assassin?!”

Ezio couldn’t stop the small satisfied smirk when he pointed to the sky where his friend was circling.

“It doesn’t matter…men, kill the Assassin!”

Instantly he was surrounded by his henchmen and the view to his enemy was cut off. Ezio was forced to fight them all with some assistance from Chiara, but Cesare would not far away run now. Not, when he had an army to command. He just had to endure.

**THUD**

Not far from him a cannonball smashed into the ground taking two with it down. Fuck. Cesare _really_ must want him dead when he started to largely and openly bombard his own men. He finished the last brute off and was just about to take down that sneaky swordsman that tried to take him out from behind when he heard a warning cry.

**THUD**

Black.

~*~

Frantic cloth pulling got him back to the land of the living. Ezio was pretty banged up but there was nothing worse than bruises and some shallow cuts, his Leonardo-made armor took most of what little damage he got so far.

The pulling continued.

“Ok, _ok_. I am awake.”

He picked up the sleep-deprived eagle and cradled her to his chest; letting her get a breather as long as she could. Going by the state of his surroundings the fight was still going on, but he had lain here quite a while because the first started to loot through the fallen ones.

On the side he spotted an unattended horse.

With a groan he pushed the corpse away that was laying on his legs and made his way over. Not the best steed he had ridden but it had to do.

Before anyone could stop him, he mounted and made his way into the heart of the city where his vision was leading him. It hurt whenever he rode away from a smaller skirmish and he did take out anybody he could from his horse, but he had to reach Cesare fast. If Cesare was dead and the word got out the army would disperse without a leader.

Understandably the horse refused walk through fire or climb up walls, so he had to continue on foot. Ignoring his aching muscles, he pulled up the siege tower to reach the next level of Viana.

In true Ezio-escalation level the wooden tower caught fire and the flames licked higher and higher, eating away the wood in its path. No way down anymore. Smoke started to fill his lungs and his eyes started to water from the heat. On the top, the base of the tower couldn’t keep up the weight and collapsed. Seeing only blurred blotches he had to jump blindly towards Chiara’s cry.

Hay cushioned his fall.

He send a silent _thank you_ to the sky and coughed the ash out of his lungs and cleaned his eyes.

Continue.

More people he could only help very little. Another siege tower.

And the angry voice of Cesare.

Fueled by the thought of the end he pulled himself upwards to the shouting. There he was. The man that had killed his Uncle, threatened his family.

“Cesare, it’s over! The walls surround you. There is nowhere to run”

“How- then come on Auditore.”

Up on the defensive walls of Viana Caste only a few of his henchmen stood at his side easily dispatched in their low numbers.

He had one target and one target alone. The few stupidly brave soldiers that tried to aid their Commander fell like those before them littering the ground.

The first opportunity to strike presented itself just after Cesare had shot his second pistol. With both now empty and just about to switch back to sword, Ezio leaped at the other who regrettably was fast enough to catch his blade arm.

Anger flowed through his veins and he used it.

He forced the Borgia down with all his might and he saw the blank panic in the other’s eyes. In a last ditched effort Cesare redirected his power to the side forfeiting parts of his well-constructed armor when the hidden blade caught the straps holding the parts together.

Cesare evaded that one.

Ezio would just continue until Cesare was defeated.

Swords clashing, pistols firing. Cries of wounded soldiers going down and the faint sound of burning things. One solid cacophony of battle sounds.

With each sentence Cesare spoke, Ezio was clearer on the fact that this man had lost at least parts of his brain functions to the Apple.

_I will hunt you and kill all the people you hold dear._

He had already tried that.

_I cannot die! Fortune will not fail me._

Everybody will die someday. Cesare due date: today.

_I will not be bested by an Auditore!_

Oh, how he will. From above Chiara cried out and attacked the now unprotected head of Cesare. In vain he tried to shield himself by throwing up his arms but without some metal to cover them Chiara’s talons tore through the unprotected flesh. He howled in pain and rage and Ezio used the opportunity given to him.

Ezio tackled Cesare to the ground, his Hidden Blade nicking the soft flesh of his throat when the world around them shattered away.

“The throne was mine!”

“Wanting something doesn’t make it your right.”

Cesare was mad in every sense of the word. Nobody who wanted to lead a large group of people successfully on a long term could do it by oppressing everything and everyone. As much as Ezio wanted to erase Cesare Borgia – any Borgia that had done wrong by his family – from history, some would remember him. Hopefully only for the bad things he did so that, if he went down in history, then he would be a bad example and not a future role model.

“Rest in peace.”

“No, NO! No _man_ can murder me.”

Ezio had to keep himself from twitching at the remark. Once before Cesare said no prison could hold him – now he walked free. But he was done with him. Just done and tired.

“Then I leave you to the hands of the fates.”

The world around him came back into view and he retracted his blade. Before Cesare could act, Ezio gripped his shirt and pulled him up towards the edge. The Borgia was flailing, trying to get free. Holding him over the abyss Ezio granted Cesare’s will and let go, letting him fall to his death.

Within the Eagle Vision he was a blinding red spot but as soon as the body hit the floor it dispersed.

Cesare was dead.

The flapping of wings announced Chiara’s landing and he held out his arm for her. With the wave of exhaustion crashing over him he leaned his face into her soft feathers and sighed.

It was over.


End file.
